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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28732995">Take My Hand</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostGeckcellent/pseuds/MostGeckcellent'>MostGeckcellent</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Hollywood, Animation, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mental Health Issues, friends to idiots to lovers, the boys make a tv show, they're not In hollywood but I feel like the tag kinda applies</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:40:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>34,478</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28732995</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostGeckcellent/pseuds/MostGeckcellent</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire is no one, really. A small-time, self-published author and artist of kid's books about dragons. People like them, and he likes making them, and that's enough for him, thank you very much. So when a big-shot producer from a television network asks him to work with him to adapt his books to a hit tv show, what will he do?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>104</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I have done absolutely no research on the process of making a television show. Please don't expect anything realistic, I have made the process be what is most convenient to the plot :) </p><p>The inspiration for this was a youtube video about the origin story of Dragon Tales; apparently a random intern asked an artist she liked to make a tv pitch with her, and it worked, and I have made so many changes to the premise that this story doesn't really resemble that at all. The title is still from the Dragon Tales intro song, though.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Grantaire focuses on the kids in front of him, rather than the parents. He’s always been better with kids than with parents - kids are much more straightforward, he finds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “And then - Whoosh -” He gets to his feet, crouching and mimicking the dragon taking flight, “- the littlest dragon took to the sky, and breathed in as deep as she could,” he takes in a deep breath, and some of the kids in the audience do it with him, and he grins wide, “and she breathed out the brightest flame any dragon had ever made, and lit the sun back on fire again, chasing away the night.” He makes a sound, and pivots on his feet, as if he’s breathing fire himself, and the kids giggle. “The other dragons wondered, who did it? We all tried, the mightiest and the biggest and the bravest, and we couldn’t do it. Which dragon lit the sun again? But the littlest dragon didn’t do it for praise, or riches, so she just went home and took a long nap, and though the big, powerful dragons took the credit, she knew, in her heart, which was bigger and stronger than any of theirs, that the most important thing of all, was that the sun was shining. And she was happy.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The kids cheer, and clamour around him, and he gets off of his chair and sits on a cushion on the floor with them, answering questions, playing with their toy dragons, reading their favourite passages from other books in silly voices. He has started doodling on a little notepad, the children gathered around him making suggestions. “It should have spikes!” one shouts. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“And pink wings!” another chimes in, and Grantaire picks up a crayon to make the wings pink. He finishes the drawing, and hands it to one of the kids to keep, when he hears the sound of a throat being cleared, and he looks up from his seat on the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>One of the librarians - Anette, he thinks - is standing nearby, smiling brightly at him. At her side is the most beautiful man Grantaire thinks he has ever seen. He’s tall and blonde, and he’s looking at Grantaire with such an intense expression that Grantaire thinks he might be trying to set him on fire. He’s also wearing a suit, and it looks like an expensive one. Grantaire realizes he’s sitting on the floor, still, and gets to his feet in a rush, brushing himself off. “Hi, hello.” He sticks a hand out at the man in the expensive suit. “Can I uh, help you?” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“This is Mr. Enjolras,” Anette introduces the Adonis, Apollo himself incarnate, who shakes Grantaire’s hand. “Mr. Enjolras, this is Grantaire.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“My friends call me R.” Grantaire drops Enjolras’ hand when he thinks it’s been an appropriate amount of time. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Yes, that’s how you sign your art. It’s a pun, isn’t it?” Enjolras asks politely. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Yeah!” Grantaire is impressed that he noticed it. Maybe he shouldn’t make assumptions, but he doesn’t look like a pun kind of guy. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“It’s good.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Thanks.” Grantaire shuffles awkwardly. A kid tugs on his shirt, and he turns around to crouch down in front of the kid. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I drew you a picture,” the little boy says shyly, and he holds out a crayon drawing. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire takes it, and makes a show of marvelling over it. “I love what you did with the colours,” he tells the kid. “And I love the extra eye. I love it. What’s your name?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Luc,” the little boy smiles, clearly thrilled. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Would you sign it for me, Luc?” Grantaire requests, and the boy giggles and signs it in crayon. Grantaire sends the boy on his way, and stands to face Enjolras again. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“So, what can I do for you?” Grantaire asks Enjolras. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Enjolras seems distracted, but he pulls himself back to answer. “Right. I want to start by saying I’m a huge fan of your books and your art. One of my friends has a little brother, and all he ever wants for birthdays and christmases is your work.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>So.. Enjolras is a fan? Not what Grantaire expected, but he can work with it. “Oh. Uh, thanks, that’s - really nice of you to say. Is there - do you want me to sign something?” He’s never done birthdays before, but if Enjolras asks, Grantaire doubts he’ll say no. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Enjolras looks awkward, and Grantaire can’t really tell but he thinks he might be blushing, which is adorable, and bizarre, because, look, Grantaire tells a decent story, he supposes, but Enjolras is the kind of hot that everyone with eyes appreciates, and he knows what he looks like. People don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>blush</span>
  </em>
  <span> when they talk to Grantaire. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Actually-” He hesitates, but holds out a book, and holy shit, that’s -  </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“- Is that Starr and the Blackheart Ruby?” he asks, taking the book, and drawing a loopy R in the front cover. “Shit, I didn’t even know these were still out there, this is my-” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“-Your first book. Self-published.” Enjolras does look embarrassed now. “It’s - I really like this one. I mean, I like all of them.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Well damn, thanks.” He hands the book back. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“But that’s not actually what I came here for.” He’s back to looking as professional as he can, and R raises an eyebrow. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Oh yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I’m a producer at PBS kids,” Enjolras explains. “I’m not sure how much kid’s tv you watch..?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I mean, I’m a single guy with no kids, so I’d say not a lot. My roommates in college loved Steven Universe, so I caught some of that? I binged the Dragon Prince on Netflix in like a weekend? Hlda was good, and Kipo is on my list? But none of that is PBS, I don’t think,” Grantaire admitted. He tried not to jump to conclusions about what a tv show producer for kids would want with him. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I won’t bother trying to entice you with my screen credits, then,” Enjolras said drily. “The Dragon Prince is good - don’t tell my bosses I said that about the competition, though. Anyway,” he cleared his throat. “I think your work is really strong, and I think it has a good message. I’d like you and I to work together on a pitch to the network to adapt your books.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire is frozen for long enough to make Enjolras look concerned. “You want to make a tv show for your fancy network? Based on my books?” He’s - not dreaming, he doesn’t think. It isn’t stressful enough to be a stress dream, but this isn’t a goal he’s always fostered, either. It’s just weird. He could be hallucinating, maybe? </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I do.” Enjolras frowns, and he must be thinking R is thinking of saying no right off the bat, because he continues, “I don’t need an answer right away, and I can imagine you have a lot of questions. Don’t make a snap decision, think about it. I think we could make something really incredible.” He hands Grantaire a business card. It’s embossed and everything. Grantaire turns it in his hands, baffled. “Can I get a way to contact you?” he prompts. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I uh, yeah, one sec.” Grantaire does have business cards, at least. He prints them, at the cheapest option available, at Staples every now and then. It has his instagram and his website and his email on it. The logo is a little dragon on a puff of smoke. He hands one off to Enjolras, and wonders what his life has become. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Thanks.” Enjolras looks relieved as he pockets the card. “I’ll send you an email, then. I’d like to give you time to think - we could get coffee in a week or so?” he suggests. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire nods, still struck dumb. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Right then.” Enjolras looks awkward again, and he sticks out a hand. Grantaire shakes it. “I’ll be in touch soon, then. Thanks again for your time.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Anytime,” Grantaire agrees, and he remains standing where he is, wide-eyed, until Enjolras has disappeared from the library. “What the fuck,” he mutters to himself, and then checks himself - this is a kid's event. Luckily, no one seems to have heard. He checks the time - there are fifteen minutes left of this event, so he sits back on the floor, and decides to process this later. For now, there are kids who he’s left waiting long enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What the fuck.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Grantaire is on the phone with Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta, because they are his best friends and he loves them dearly, and because he thinks that Joly and Bossuet will have something nice and encouraging to say, and Musichetta will promise to kick his ass if he doesn’t turn up to the coffee meeting, at least. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“What did you say his name was?” Joly asks, probably already googling him. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Enjolras,” Grantaire repeats, as if he could ever forget. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Holy shit, dude.” There’s a pause, and then Bossuet must be reading over Joly’s shoulder. “Your producer guy has worked on some popular shows. He’s got like, three Emmy noms.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“What’s he want with my shitty stories, then?” Grantaire is baffled. “Also, are you sure? He’s like, pretty young?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Yeah, no, he’s legit,” Bossuet assures him. “You’re going, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I mean, I don’t know,” Grantaire admits. “It’s a lot of pressure, isn’t it? I write on my own time, I do what I want, mostly, I don’t have people breathing down my neck about it. And I don’t know shit about tv, the fuck?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Hey, you’re not about to actually make a show yet, just a pitch,” Bossuet points out. “What’s the worst case scenario?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I get swept up in it, lose all the rights to my work, it gets bastardized into some shitty tv show, there’s shitty merch and a bad theme park, and I don’t get to write what I want anymore?” Grantaire has thought about this extensively in the hour since he said goodbye to Enjolras. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Don’t be stupid.” Musichetta finally speaks up. “You’re not going to do that. And if you start to feel like you might do something you’ll regret, you call us. You know we’ll always set you straight.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I don’t know if I can ever be set ‘straight,’” Grantaire jokes. “I’m a bent bastard, you know that.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Shut up,” all three of them groan at the same time, and Grantaire grins. He does feel better, though. He thinks he’ll probably end up going to meet Enjolras. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Alright. Fine, you’ve got me, I’ll at least talk to the guy. But you need to help me figure out what the fuck I even need to ask him,” Grantaire gives in. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire meets Enjolras at a vegan cafe in the nice part of town. It was Enjolras’ suggestion. Grantaire is already uneasy. It’s a hipstery place that serves him a cold brew something-or-other in a mason jar, and Grantaire looks at it dubiously. When he takes a sip, he has to begrudgingly admit it’s good, at least. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“So.” Enjolras starts speaking, and Grantaire shakes himself to attention. “Did you have a chance to think about the pitch?” Enjolras is leaning in, eager. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Right. Yeah, uh, I came up with some things to ask?” Grantaire has a notebook and everything. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Fantastic. Would you like me to give you some of the basic details first, or jump right into those?” Enjolras asks. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Uh. Basics first, I guess?” Grantaire shrugs. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Right. Well, we’d need to have a single episode pretty fully fleshed out, and an outline of what we’d anticipate the first season to be,” Enjolras begins. “You’d do some storyboarding, and we’d present the whole thing to the studio execs. I’d also put together an idea of the budget, and possibly ideas about casting and hiring, but none of that is anything you have to worry about.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“My stories aren’t exactly serialized like a tv show,” Grantaire points out. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Well, no. Any adaptation means making some changes,” Enjolras admits. “We have a couple of options, of course - most television fits into three categories. Serialized, like you said, where it’s an ongoing story, and you have to watch all of it in order for it to make sense. Not a fantastic choice for children’s shows in general,” Enjolras says like it’s obvious, and thinking about it, Grantaire supposes that it makes sense. “Then there’s episodic - that’s something like, I don’t know, you must be familiar with Spongebob?” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire nods, and Enjolras carries on, “Episodic is good for kid’s tv, because every episode is its own contained entity, and you don’t need to watch anything to follow whatever happens to be playing. There’s no long story for young kids to be trying to follow along with. Some shows for older kids or adults do this too - think the Simpsons.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire nods again. So far, so good, he thinks. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“And lastly, most shows are a combination of the two, where there’s a plot you can follow for every episode, but an overarching storyline, too, that’s built bit by bit. That’s what keeps people coming back for the next episode, rather than relying on them just regularly watching tv at that time.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“So, did you have one in mind..?” Grantaire asks slowly. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“It depends, I think, on what age group we end up targeting,” Enjolras says, like he’s already thought about this. Grantaire supposes he probably has. “If we’re thinking very young, the age group you’re already writing for, we might be more inclined to go for episodic; chances are, they’re watching tv because their parents put it on, not because they want to keep up with a show. But I think we could do a version for slightly older kids - cartoons are popular right now, especially ones that also appeal to a wider age group.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire feels like he’s doing a lot of nodding. “So.. combined?” he guesses. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I think it makes sense.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire gets the decision. Enjolras explained it well. But he’s still left thinking, “There’s already kids who love the stories, though. How will they feel if we make a show out of this, but it’s not for them?” He doesn’t want to let anyone who loved these stories down. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“There’s a good chance the studio will agree with you, though for different reasons,” Enjolras admits. “They’ll probably want to capitalize on the existing audience - assuming they agree to make the show, anyway.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“So, should we pitch it in a way they’ll like it best, then?” Grantaire asks, uncertain. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Enjolras shrugs expressively. “If they like it, they’ll probably have changes they want made anyway. The pitch isn’t usually anything like the final product, in the end. I think we should pitch the show we want to make, and if we have to make concessions, then we cross that bridge later, rather than capitulating before we’ve even begun.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>That sounds like a lot more work, in Grantaire’s opinion, but in this, Enjolras is the expert. “Speaking of the existing audience, I had a question sort of related?” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Of course,” Enjolras waves a hand, as if giving Grantaire the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire fights the urge to roll his eyes at that. “My books, and my art. How much of that is still mine? And - will I still be able to make more? On my own terms, writing and drawing what I want, the way I do now?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Enjolras looks uncomfortable at that, as if he already anticipates Grantaire won’t like the answer. “Well, that’s complicated,” he admits. “What’s already published remains yours, of course, we wouldn’t take any financial gain from those. It’s likely that the studio will want exclusive rights moving forward, though. Not forever!” Enjolras must see something in Grantaire’s expression that makes him emphasize that. “But for as long as the show is airing, probably for some time afterwards, too, for their own merchandising, if the show is successful enough for that to be a possibility.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire still doesn’t like that, but Enjolras isn’t even finished yet. “If it really takes off, they might try to buy the rights entirely,” he admits, “to put out books of their own, or to write new stories without you. But the concept is your intellectual property, and they would need your consent for that - they couldn’t actually stop you from publishing forever. You just have to be careful what you sign. I’m on your side, here, Grantaire. I’m not trying to steal your ideas from under you. I can help you navigate that part of it, make sure that you’re comfortable with what you’re agreeing to every step of the way.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Enjolras seems to mean it. He’s painfully sincere, in fact, and Grantaire has trouble meeting his eyes. “Right.” He’s still not a fan of any of that. He’d known he probably wouldn’t be, of course. “What about the show, then? What are my rights there? How much creative control do I still get?” He can maybe live with taking a break from the books, if he knows he's still making something the kids will like, if he still gets to tell the stories that matter to him. He has no intention of signing his work away to some soulless corporation, though. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Again, it depends on the contract that gets signed,” Enjolras admits. “My intention, though, is to have you as the head writer and concept artist, and for us to collaborate on this to make sure that I, as producer, know what you want to see. It’s <em>your</em> ideas that have made your stories as popular as they are, and it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> at the heart of all of it. As long as it’s my project, I want you to like what we end up making.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Again with the painful sincerity. The thing is, what Grantaire is hearing is that he’ll have to stop doing his own stuff for a while, if this show happens. He’ll have to work with a team, and answer to people, and Enjolras says he’ll listen to him, but he also knows Enjolras might not always get the final say. He knows this is a messy industry. But he’s also getting the feeling that as long as he doesn’t sign his life away, there’s a few points where he can walk away, and they can’t make him do anything. This tv thing isn’t even his idea in the first place; if it falls through, he’ll be perfectly fine going back to his books and his drawings and reading for kids in the library. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>And then there’s Enjolras. He wants to trust Enjolras, of course. It’s hard not to, when he has those eyes, and when he talks like he really, genuinely cares. But he also knows Enjolras is part of this system, and he shouldn’t rely on Enjolras too much. He should probably get a lawyer of his own, actually. He wonders if Bahorel would do it. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire has a few more questions, but at this point they’re more to fill the silence while he thinks. It would be big, it would be a lot of pressure. It could be a disaster - it probably will be, in fact. But.. well. Part of him thinks about how cool it could be, to see his stories animated and come to life. Grantaire swirls the dregs of his coffee, and thinks. Enjolras waits. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“Alright. Let’s do this thing,” he says at last.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is the longest chapter of the entire fic... hope you enjoy! once again, I have never researched a thing in my life :) reality bends itself to suit my plot.</p><p>For some chapter-specific warnings, see end notes.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After their coffee meeting, Grantaire calls Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta again. He’s surprised to find that he feels pretty good about it - he has concerns, of course he does, but even he can’t deny that this is exciting. He’d never dreamed anything like this could happen to him. Musichetta agrees that he should be careful about what he signs, and supports calling Bahorel to read his contracts over, should any come his way, but she also suggests, as direct as ever, that - </p><p>    “Could it be that you’re freaking yourself out over maybes and what-ifs so that you can’t be too disappointed if it doesn’t work out?”</p><p>    “Shut up,” Grantaire mutters. She’s probably right, as usual. “You don’t fuckin’ know me.” </p><p>    “Sure, hon,” she laughs at him. “Just - don’t do that thing where you give up before you start, okay? You’ll kick your own butt later if you fuck it up on purpose.” </p><p>    “You suck and I hate all of you,” Grantaire mumbles down the line, and then says, “I don’t want to do that, this time. I think - I mean, I can’t go getting my hopes up, but I want to see where this goes, you know?”</p><p>    “Good.” Joly is the one to speak this time. “I believe in you. We all do.” </p><p>    “Someone has to, I guess.” Grantaire hopes he doesn’t end up letting them down. He suspects they won’t be too hard on him, regardless, but he really does want to live up to the faith these three have in him. </p><p>    “Hush. You’re very talented, and we all know you’ll make something amazing.” </p><p>    “Yeah, yeah.” Grantaire shakes his head. He hangs up, after some goodbyes, and turns his phone on silent. He pours himself a single glass of wine, orders some pizza, and holes himself up in the spare bedroom, which has long since been converted to a sort of studio. </p><p> </p><p>    He thinks about everything Enjolras had said, about age groups and writing styles, and he thinks about the tv shows he likes now, and the ones he liked as a kid. He pulls out copies of his books, and makes notes on what stories he’d like to adapt, which characters could be fleshed out to become recurring characters. His books don’t tend to use the same characters from book to book, but he thinks he can put together an interesting cast from the ones he’s already made. He sketches a design for a new character to be the main character, and then makes a few options, once inspiration strikes. </p><p>    It’s nearly sunrise by the time he resurfaces. His desk is covered in drafts and notes, and there are sticky notes in all sorts of colours on the walls. There are sketches and some simple storyboards on the floor, and he has pens everywhere. He’s exhausted, and he falls directly into bed and sleeps. </p><p> </p><p>    He wakes up a few hours later only because someone is about to knock his door down with all their racket. He groans, rubs his face, and shuffles over, stepping over the empty pizza box and picking up the empty wine bottle on his way. When he reaches the door, Bahorel is on the other side, grinning. “I hear congratulations are in order!” He pushes in through the door. “You didn’t turn up at the gym, so I asked Bossuet if he knew where you were, and he said you probably forgot, because you’re <em> working on making a tv show </em> , I’m offended you didn’t tell me, you know. You owe me a drink <em> and </em> a boxing session.” </p><p>    Grantaire blinks, and watches Bahorel for a moment. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” he says when he realizes Bahorel is right, he was supposed to meet him at the gym last night. “I should have texted, or something, I just got so wrapped up-” </p><p>    “Dude, chill, I get it,” Bahorel assures him, leaning against Grantaire’s kitchen table. “So - tv, huh?”</p><p>    “It’s gonna blow up in my face,” Grantaire grimaces. “But - yeah. TV. Maybe.” He shrugs. </p><p>    “Fuckin’ sick.” Bahorel grins. “You better be introducing me to all the hot famous people when you make it.” </p><p>    “All the hot famous people, or just the ones who look like lumberjacks?” Grantaire teases. </p><p>    “Fuck off,” Bahorel points at him and stops leaning, standing up straight. “We’re just bros.” </p><p>    “Bromos,” Grantaire corrects him with a grin. “Observe in the wild the Bromo, guys who are pals, checking out each others’ abs in the gym and giving homoerotic fist bumps and hooking up while drunk at parties.” </p><p>    “That only happened once!” </p><p>    “Yeah but you gotta admit it’s not just platonic.” </p><p>    “It is for him,” Bahorel is actually frowning now. “Drop it, R.” </p><p>    “Ugh, you two are the worst. Fine,” Grantaire agrees. Someday they’ll both stop pretending they’re not stupid and in love, and Grantaire will throw the biggest fucking party. </p><p>    “I hear you’ve got a crush, though.” Bahorel is grinning again. Nothing gets him down for long. </p><p>    “What?” Grantaire is genuinely bewildered this time. </p><p>    “Apparently you waxed poetic about your tv guy’s eyes for like a minute straight - Joly timed you.” </p><p>    “I did not!” Grantaire thinks he might remember that, actually. </p><p>    “Apparently you think he’s, and I quote, from Bossuet, quoting you, ‘built like Michaelangelo’s fucking David’.” Bahorel seems to be enjoying himself again. </p><p>    Grantaire scowls. “I’m an artist, I’m supposed to notice stuff like that,” he defends himself. </p><p>    “Mhm.” Bahorel doesn’t look convinced, and Grantaire groans. </p><p>    “Look, I can’t have a crush on Enjolras because a), I’m not twelve, and b), we’re supposed to be working together. He’s very pretty, and very passionate, and yeah, okay, maybe part of me wants him to be that passionate about me, but that doesn’t matter, because I’m trying to follow Musichetta’s advice and not self-sabotage, and may I remind you, I am very bad at being normal about pretty people.” Grantaire finishes his rant with a huff. </p><p>    “Dude. Are you saying you don’t think I’m pretty?” Bahorel has the audacity to look hurt. </p><p>    Grantaire takes a crumpled up piece of paper from his pocket and throws it at him. </p><p>    Bahorel catches it, and uncrumples it. “Hey, is this a new dragon?” he asks. </p><p>    Grantaire shrugs. “Yeah, I was thinking of making a new one to be the main character,” he says casually. “I feel like there should probably be a main character for a kid’s show, right? Less confusing, or whatever.” </p><p>    “This is dope.” Bahorel inspects the paper. “I’m keeping this. Then when you’re famous I can say I have original concept art and it’ll be worth millions.” </p><p>    “Fuck <em> off </em>.” R kind of has to admit he likes the idea, though. </p><p> </p><p>Eventually, Bahorel leaves. Not before he steals some of Grantaire’s toaster waffles, of course, and with the drawing still in his pocket. Grantaire doesn’t really mind. </p><p>He has the rest of the week to get some ideas down before he’s due to meet Enjolras in person again to discuss, but he has permission to contact Enjolras if he needs anything. He holds out for a few days, and when he gives in, he’s in a diner, doodling on a napkin. He’s drawn Enjolras as a dragon, detailed in gold sharpie and red pen. He’s wearing a tie and a suit jacket, and Grantaire is pretty pleased, if he’s being honest. Before he can think too hard about it, he snaps a photo and sends it to Enjolras. A moment later, he wishes he could take it back, but this is texting, so he can’t. Grantaire feels his heart about to beat out of his chest, but he takes a few deep breaths. He needs to get used to texting Enjolras, probably, and to showing him drawings, though he’d prefer to show Enjolras something finished - or at least, something actually for the show. </p><p>Grantaire takes a swig of coffee. It doesn’t help, which he supposes is predictable. He considers switching to decaf, and then makes a face, disgusted. No. He’ll take the anxiety, thanks. He finishes the cup, and nearly chokes when his phone vibrates on the table. He grabs for his phone, and it takes him two tries to unlock it. Enjolras’ response reads, </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>From: Apollo</b>
</p><p>That’s a new one, isn’t it? </p><p> </p><p>Grantaire stares at his phone, despairing of his life. Enjolras even texts with capitals and punctuation and everything. He texts back, </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>To: Apollo</b>
</p><p>yeah <br/>    it’s you as a dragon <br/>    not for the show, just for fun</p><p> </p><p>Not just double typing, but triple typing. Not a cute or chill look, but Grantaire has made his choices and has to live with them. His phone vibrates in his hand while Grantaire is having a crisis about his texting habits. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>From: Apollo</b>
</p><p>You drew me as a dragon? </p><p> </p><p>Grantaire panics further. Is Enjolras telling him off for wasting time? For doodling when he should be working? Before he can reply, another text comes through. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>From: Apollo</b>
</p><p>It’s cute. Thank you. </p><p> </p><p>Right. Okay. He’s probably not in trouble, then. He taps out a quick, </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>To: Apollo</b>
</p><p>no prob</p><p> </p><p>And then has to resist the urge to crumple up and get rid of the doodle. He pockets it instead, and, for the sake of at least not wasting Enjolras’ time completely, sends him some pictures of his actual work in progress. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>To: Apollo</b>
</p><p>i promise i’m doing actual work too</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>From: Apollo</b>
</p><p>It looks fantastic so far. I can’t wait to see more on Friday. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>To: Apollo</b>
</p><p>for sure for sure</p><p> </p><p>The texting ends there, but only for a little while. It’s like the floodgates have been opened, and now they’re texting regularly. Enjolras sends Grantaire a text complaining about being bored at a meeting; Grantaire sends Enjolras a photo he took of a weiner dog in a raincoat. Enjolras sends him a photo of a cat - Enjolras’ cat, apparently, and her name is Robi, after fucking Robespierre of all people, god, Grantaire has a crush on a weirdo. Grantaire replies with a photo of Bossuet on a pony at some country fair they’d gone to the past summer. That leads to him telling the story of how Bossuet had accidentally kicked the pony a little too hard while trying to avoid getting stung by a wasp, only to end up sending the poor pony into a canter, while he fell off and landed in the mud. He’d broken his ankle and been stung by the wasp, in the end, and they’d all been kicked out of the fair. </p><p>A few days later, Grantaire is treated to a long rant about corporate politics in television, and Grantaire thinks it’s endearing and a little naive - seriously, how does Enjolras get to be a producer for a big network and not expect that there will be a corporate agenda? When he asks, Enjolras points out that PBS is supposed to be a non-profit, which is why he’d chosen to work there in the first place, and that they shouldn’t have to cave to other people’s agendas as a result. It turns into their first argument, but somehow, it doesn’t send Grantaire spiralling. It’s an interesting debate, one that continues into the next day, and the next after that. There’s no ill-will, or at least Grantaire doesn’t think so. Enjolras apparently checks Grantaire’s sources, which is absurd and somehow only makes Grantaire like him more. </p><p> </p><p>Friday arrives, and Grantaire is nervous, of course, to show Enjolras what he’s been working on, but excited, too - they’ve been texting a lot, and he thinks they’re somehow becoming actual friends. Talking to Enjolras is becoming a highlight of his day, which should be a sign of trouble, actually, but he’s trying not to get in his own head and sabotage it, so whenever he starts to worry, he just does something else, throwing himself into working on the television pitch. </p><p>That happens to be the reason he’s running late, now, though. He lost track of time, and now he has to run to catch his bus. It’s raining, too, so he has his bag clutched close to his body so his laptop, his tablet, and the papers inside don’t get wet. He arrives at the same cafe as last time fifteen minutes late and a little bit damp. “I’m so sorry,” he finds Enjolras at a table, doing something on his phone. He’d texted to warn him, of course, so Enjolras wouldn’t be left wondering what was up, but he still feels bad for being so late. “I uh, I was making some last minute edits.” </p><p>Because the world is desperately unfair, Enjolras seems to have missed the rain, and he is as stunning and immaculate as Grantaire remembers. Enjolras doesn’t smile, but Grantaire thinks he catches a quirk of his lips anyway, and he nods. Grantaire sits down. </p><p>“Not to worry, you’re here now. Do you want to take a minute and order something? And then we can get to work,” Enjolras suggests. Grantaire nods, and doesn’t move for a moment. Enjolras raises an eyebrow, and Grantaire shakes himself back to reality. </p><p>“Right. Yes.” He fights back a blush and heads for the counter. He’s not sure what he orders, he’s distracted, but eventually he’s handed a latte and wrap of some sort, and he takes it back to their table. Enjolras lets him drink some of his coffee and eat some of his wrap, and they chit-chat for a few minutes in the meantime. Eventually, though, they have to get down to business. </p><p>“I like the idea of a main character,” Enjolras agrees with him. “It gives the show a through-line.” </p><p>They’re looking at some concept art for the main character. It’s a blue and gold dragon, round and cheerful looking. “I was thinking about how, you know, when the main character is a girl, it automatically becomes a show only marketed to girls, and gets like, downplayed by studios and stuff,” Grantaire says. “And then about how boys get all the representation, and then about how gender is stupid and <em> then </em> I needed a break and started playing video games, and I was playing some Zelda and did you know the original artist for Zelda wanted Link to be specifically andogynous, so like, someone playing could think Link was a girl or a guy or both or neither and feel represented, you know?” He’s rambling, he knows he’s rambling. “So I was thinking - I mean, dragons aren’t necessarily going to read as a boy or a girl unless we tell the audience, or use those boring animation tells, like big eyelashes or whatever, and if the script has everyone else just call them by name.. Everyone can feel represented, and it has to be marketed to everyone, right?”</p><p>Enjolras nods slowly. “I didn’t know that about Zelda, actually, but - yes, I think that could work. The studio might demand a gender for their own marketing purposes, but we might be able to make the case to them, too, about the main character being able to be read as either. A bigger audience, like you said.” </p><p>They name the main character Link, temporarily, until they or the writer comes up with something better, and it makes both of them smile. And then they move on, discussing plots and goals and milestones. Together, they decide that there can be some story pushing the plot for the season, but most of the story can be told through episodic adventures, with some of the important lessons carrying through to create character development. Grantaire is glad; if they’re going to have a recurring character, he wants to show how those lessons learned actually make an impact moving on. He wants to show when things are complicated, or difficult, and not solved in a single day. He doesn’t give his reasons for agreeing, in the moment, though, just glad that they agree on this. </p><p>“I think we’ve made good progress today,” Enjolras says. “I think what we’ll want is a proper script and storyboard for a pilot, a broader outline for a season with an episode or two loosely planned, and a finale, with a pitch for how it can continue to a new season.” </p><p>“Right.” Not intimidating at all. “So..?”</p><p>“So, we’ve talked a little about how we want the season to go. Why don’t you come up with a few ideas for episodes, particularly a pilot, and we can take a look with a red pen together, until we have what we’re satisfied with?” Enjolras suggests. “We can meet again in a couple weeks?”</p><p>“Sure, yeah.” Grantaire thinks he can keep up the momentum, probably. This first meeting went better than expected, after all. He’s not feeling bad about it - Enjolras has been passionate, encouraging. He can do this. “Yeah. I uh, I have a thing next week, though, which shouldn’t get in the way, but - well, I’m doing a drawing workshop thing at the children’s museum all weekend.” </p><p>“You don’t have to be finished anything,” Enjolras assures him. “I just think it’s good to have regular check-ins, to make sure we’re making some progress, and to share thoughts.”</p><p>“Right.” Grantaire smiled a little, and still feels a little like he should probably have something to show Enjolras when they next meet. They part ways with a handshake, which, after a moment of hesitation, turns into a hug. </p><p>“We’re going to create something amazing, Grantaire, I just know it,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire thinks he’s in so, so far over his head. </p><p> </p><p>Grantaire works hard on the pitch for two days. He has a couple ideas for a pilot, and half a script, and he goes over his notes for the overall plot they’d discussed. Then he gets nervous about his workshop, and spends the next three days overthinking every choice he’s ever made, until Musichetta comes over and takes his laptop away and threatens to make him talk about his feelings. They watch Lilo and Stitch instead, and drink white wine, and fall asleep on the couch together. </p><p>He wakes up and Musichetta is gone, but she’s left some breakfast in the fridge for him to reheat. Grantaire roots around for his phone, and finds it in the kitchen. He intends to send her a thank you text, but finds instead that Musichetta has texted a photo of himself curled up asleep on the couch to Enjolras, and decides that he’s going to kill her instead. Enjolras hasn’t responded, so Grantaire sends a text to try to fix it. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>To: Apollo</b>
</p><p>ahhhhh sorry abt that, my friend decided to embarrass me, god knows why :\ </p><p> </p><p>There’s no answer immediately forthcoming, so Grantaire sends Musichetta a text with only a knife emoji, certain she’ll know what he means, and she just sends him an eggplant and a peach in return, so he sends her a middle finger back. </p><p>With that business concluded, he glances at the time. He has to be at the museum in two hours. Enough time to shower, luckily, so he does. He even takes the time to root out his least paint-stained clothes before he hops on the metro with a bag full of supplies. </p><p>He arrives, mercifully, before the first of the families, and the museum staff seem pleased to see him, which is always nice. They lead him to the workshop rooms in the basement, and he begins setting out places for the children. The first of them start to trickle in before too long, and he recognizes some of them. He does these as often as he can, just like he tries to read a few times a month at the library when he can; he’d been nervous about doing this sort of thing at first, of course, but he loves the kids, he really does. </p><p>“Hey, you,” he greets one of them with a big grin, and she grins back. </p><p>“I call dibs on the purple marker this time,” she informs him seriously, and he nods, taking her request seriously. He roots around in his bag, and hands her the coveted purple marker. </p><p>“All yours,” he says, and moves on to the next. </p><p>Five minutes before he’s due to begin, one final pair walk in. The first is a rambunctious boy who looks about ten, with a full head of dark curly hair and a look in his eye that screams trouble. The second is a very familiar blonde man in a suit. Well, shit. </p><p>“Enjolras,” Grantaire greets the man. “I uh, didn’t know you had a little monster of your own.” The boy has run ahead to find a station at one of the tables. </p><p>“Oh! I don’t,” Enjolras says, looking surprised, as if it wasn’t a natural conclusion to draw. “No, Gav is - he belongs to a friend of mine. Not that a person can belong to another person, even children, I just mean to say -” </p><p>“-You’re not the father, got it.” Grantaire hasn’t seen a wedding ring before, and he doesn’t now, but that doesn’t mean he’s single, he supposes. More importantly, he reminds himself, it doesn’t mean he’d be interested in Grantaire even if he was. </p><p>“Yes. Yeah.” Enjolras seems to be relieved that Grantaire is following his meaning. “He’s - well, he’s trouble, honestly, but he usually means well enough. And he loves your books, though he claims he’s too old for kid stuff.” Enjolras rolls his eyes demonstrably, and Grantaire smiles. </p><p>“Ah, I know the type. I’m sure we’ll get along alright,” he assures Enjolras. “I uh, I better be starting though.” </p><p>“Do you mind if I stay? I’ll just be working at the back,” Enjolras asks. </p><p>Grantaire shrugs. “Suit yourself, I guess. Working, even on a weekend?”</p><p>“You are,” Enjolras points out. </p><p>“Oh, I don’t get paid for this, I’m just volunteering,” Grantaire corrects him. He doesn’t make a lot of money, given his insistence on not charging too much for his books, and even less for his time. Money isn’t why he does it, though. </p><p>Enjolras has a strange look on his face at that, though. “You ought to be compensated for your time and effort.” </p><p>“Eh.” Grantaire isn’t bothered. “It’s not like this place is rolling in cash, half the people here are volunteers. It’s how it goes.” </p><p>“Still…” Enjolras looks displeased, and Grantaire is pleased to announce that he should really be getting the session started, or they’ll cut into the kids’ time. </p><p> </p><p>The session goes well. Grantaire thinks he catches Enjolras watching him, a few times, but Enjolras is always quick to return his attention to his laptop, typing away furiously. Gavroche draws a perfectly acceptable dragon with Grantaire’s guidance, and promptly declares, </p><p>“You’re alright, for a boring old writer for babies.” </p><p>Grantaire doesn’t laugh, because he suspects Gavroche wouldn’t want to think he’s being laughed at. “A high compliment, I’m sure,” he says instead, and pretends not to notice when Gavroche pockets one of Grantaire’s own example drawings. </p><p>“You’re good with them.” It’s an adult voice, for once - Enjolras. </p><p>“Kids are the easiest people to get along with,” Grantaire tells him. </p><p>“Not for everyone.” Enjolras glances across the room, where parents are beginning to collect their children again. “I was wondering - I have to keep an eye on Gavroche for a little longer, I was going to take him to McDonalds, the one with the play structure. It’s uh.” He blushes a little. “It’s not exactly a nice cafe, or anything, but I wondered if you’d like to join me for a coffee? We can spend a few minutes talking about work and use that as an excuse to comp it.”</p><p>“Oh. Yeah, uh, sure, why not?” Grantaire shrugs. He should probably get some actual work done, but hanging out with Enjolras is nice, too. </p><p>They collect Gavroche, once everyone else is gone, and the space is tidied up a little, and head over to the McDonalds in Enjolras’ car. It’s one of those electric hybrid ones, and Grantaire is a little scared to touch even the door handle. It seems bizarre to park in this vehicle at a McDonalds parking lot, and Grantaire can tell by the look on Enjolras’ face that this isn’t a place he would usually frequent, but Gavroche devours his french fries and disappears into the tunnels in the play place. </p><p>“So uh.. What’s with the kid, then?” Grantaire can’t help himself from asking. He’s nosy. It’s a character flaw. </p><p>“He’s my sister’s friend’s brother,” Enjolras explains, and Grantaire needs a second to do the mental math. “His sister has custody.” The look on Enjolras’ face forbids Grantaire from asking about that. “She had an emergency work shift, and my sister, Cosette, had a date.” Enjolras wrinkles his nose. It’s adorable. “She was going to cancel, but - well, I was free. So I offered to take him for the afternoon. I remembered you said you were doing this, and I thought it’d keep him occupied.” </p><p>Grantaire nods slowly. “Well, I’m glad you came. I think he enjoyed himself, once he stopped worrying about looking cool.” </p><p>“He did,” Enjolras seems pretty certain of that. Grantaire can only assume he knows what he’s talking about. “You’re good with kids, like I said.” </p><p>“Well uh.. Thanks. I guess.” </p><p> </p><p>The conversation shifts, and they find themselves discussing their favourite authors - </p><p>“The Neverending Story is my favourite book, but Pratchett is the best author, obviously,” Grantaire says.</p><p>“Marx,” Enjolras counters. </p><p>“Oh come on, you’re not - oh.” Enjolras is laughing. “You’re joking. Right.”</p><p>“If we’re talking fantasy, I’m a fan of Le Guin,” Enjolras adds. “Otherwise, Shel Silverstein, of course.” </p><p>“You can’t tell me you really agree with the story of the giving tree, though,” Grantaire objects, and this, of course, sparks a debate on the lessons one should be teaching children about generosity versus setting boundaries. </p><p>“All I’m saying is, I think kids should know they don’t have to give so much of themselves, you know? Like, we have the rainbow fish, and the giving tree, and I know sharing is important and all that, but I think kids are allowed to have things of their own, or to be proud of the things that make them special, or to set boundaries and keep some parts of themselves to themselves,” Grantaire argues. </p><p>“Of course, but that kind of nuance is lost on such a young audience, and the lesson of sharing and generosity is an important one. How else will children learn compassion -” </p><p>“Okay, but those are two separate things,” Grantaire shakes his head. </p><p> </p><p>Topics shift, gradually, from moral absolutism to learning theory regarding children, to research involving children, to - well, it doesn’t matter how, exactly. The point is that they talk for hours, uninterrupted, until Enjolras’ phone rings. </p><p>“This is Enjolras,” he answers, and Grantaire fidgets with his coffee, which has long since gone cold. Despite the fact that they can’t seem to agree on very much, this has been fun. Enjolras is fascinating, and he hasn’t been this entertained by a conversation in a long time. </p><p>“Shit, sorry. Yeah, I’ll bring him home now, thanks Ep.” </p><p>Enjolras hangs up the phone, sheepish. “It’s later than I realized,” he explains. “I should have had Gav home ages ago.” He walks up to the playplace and calls for Gavroche, who only comes running when Grantaire is the one to call for him. </p><p>“We’ll have to do this again sometime,” Enjolras says, and he drops Grantaire off at home before heading on his way with Gavroche in the backseat. Grantaire doesn’t know what to think. </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Things get a little busier. Grantaire is picking up some extra shifts bartending, to add to his income, and Enjolras apparently has some project coming to a head. It means that, rather than meeting in person, they’re mostly calling and emailing, despite the best of intentions. They keep texting, of course. Grantaire sends every photo of a cute animal he takes, and tells Enjolras stories from the bar, or from his events. Enjolras tells Grantaire about Gavroche’s escapades and rants about troubles he’s having with executives. </p><p>Eventually, Grantaire sends Enjolras half a dozen drafts. He’s been working hard on them - he thinks they’re good, fairly polished even. They come back absolutely decimated with red corrections. He tries not to let it get to him. Some of the comments he has to concede are fair, and some of them he argues with Enjolras about. Some of their conversations go long into the night, and end only in frustration. Grantaire makes some edits, and rewrites some of the episodes, and sends them back. </p><p>They come back once again full of red changes. </p><p>Grantaire thinks he deserves some credit that it’s not until the fifth round of this that he snaps. Really, he thinks it should have been coming a lot sooner. He’d thought that they shared a vision, but he’s less and less convinced that’s true. Enjolras doesn’t seem to understand what he’s trying to do, and he’s not sure, if Enjolras hates all his ideas so much, why he approached Grantaire in the first place. </p><p>He turns off his phone, lets his laptop battery die, and doesn’t pick up a pen again. </p><p> </p><p>Musichetta, Bossuet, and Joly come to visit on day three. They let themselves in with the spare key Joly keeps in case of emergencies, and they sit with him and watch a documentary about space, and a mockumentary series based on Planet Earth about aliens, and eat copious amounts of burritos. </p><p>On day five, Bahorel is the one to drop by. He gives a play-by-play on how he got in a fight with someone who couldn’t take no for an answer at the bar. They make shitty coffee monstrosities and dare each other to drink them. </p><p> </p><p>On day six, a deadline comes and passes unmarked. Grantaire doesn’t even realized he’d promised to have the edits back to Enjolras that day, he’s still wallowing. He doesn’t know if he wants to do this anymore, but at the same time, he knows he’s being stupid, that he shouldn’t just give up. Part of him knows this is how the process works, probably, that it’s probably not that Enjolras hates him and his ideas, but most of him isn’t ready to acknowledge that; he’s still too deep in his own misery. </p><p> </p><p>His minimal self-awareness is the reason he answers the door, on day nine, and doesn’t slam it in Enjolras’ face. Enjolras looks concerned, and then he takes in Grantaire’s state, and the state of his apartment, the bottles scattered across every surface and the clearly unshaven, unshowered man who hasn’t bothered to pick up after himself, and his concern turns to a scowl. </p><p>“For fuck’s sake, Grantaire,” he growls, and stalks past Grantaire into the apartment. “Do you have any idea - I’ve been calling for days. When you stopped answering your texts, I thought, oh, he’s just busy, this happens sometimes, I thought - do you at least have something to show me?”</p><p>Grantaire only grows petulant, listening to that outburst. “Oh, you were concerned, were you?” he demands. “Didn’t think you’d care.” </p><p>“What on earth do you mean, you didn’t - “ Enjolras pauses. “Are you still drunk?”</p><p>“Does it matter?” Grantaire asks, belligerent. </p><p>“God - you know, I was actually worried about you? But you’re just - you’re not taking this seriously at all, are you?” He shakes his head. “Have you done anything at all since we talked?”</p><p>“Ugh, what does it matter? It’ll get done eventually,” Grantaire groans, defensive and not wanting to own up to it. He knows he should have done the work, but he didn’t. </p><p>“I can’t believe you!” Enjolras throws his hands up. “If you can’t keep a simple deadline like this, how can I trust you to keep an important deadline if this project actually moves forward?” </p><p>This, of course, is one of Grantaire’s fears as well, and Enjolras hitting so close to home makes him flinch. Enjolras isn’t done. </p><p>“I need someone reliable, Grantaire.” He is severe, now. “If that isn’t something you’re capable of, tell me now.” </p><p>Grantaire comes to the horrible, awful realization that this is Enjolras backing out. He was right - this isn’t worth it, he can’t do it, and now Enjolras knows that too. He’s pale, silent; he doesn’t know what to say. He can’t promise he’ll never have another bad day, or another bad week, even, not in good faith. </p><p>He’s silent too long, because Enjolras huffs, and he looks disappointed. Grantaire supposes it was inevitable that he would let Enjolras down, with his big plans and lofty ideas. Enjolras sighs, and walks out the door. The silence in the apartment after the door slams behind him is deafening. He pours himself another drink.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>...sorry?</p><p>warnings: R has a depressive episode and some pretty serious self-sabotage and self-blame and all that stuff. There is some maladaptive drinking as a coping mechanism also.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Grantaire doesn’t know if it was the fight, or the last drink, or something else entirely, but the rest of the day passes in a fever pitch. He feels as if he’s outside of his own body, and when he surfaces again, it’s the early hours of the morning. There are pages scattered around him, but he can’t quite remember what he’s written and drawn. He’s suddenly exhausted, and he goes to bed. He wakes at noon, papers on the floor, on his desk, everywhere. He doesn’t so much as look at them before gathering them up with the rest of the trash. He starts in his room, and makes his way through the rest of his apartment, clearing away bottles and scrubbing the dishes. He vacuums, and does laundry, and changes his sheets, and when he’s done, he showers. The apartment is sparkling, and he feels - not good, no, especially when he thinks of the disappointment on Enjolras’ face. There’s a hollow feeling in his chest when he thinks of how he’s ruined maybe the best thing to happen to him in a while. Not the tv show, necessarily, to his surprise -- that had been an incredible opportunity, of course, but no, he mourned the fledgeling friendship he’d been forging with Enjolras more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He texts Joly to let him know he’s doing better, and thanks all three of them for their help, and then texts Bahorel, thanking him too, and then asks to meet at the gym later. He desperately wants to find a punching bag, and a good round in the boxing ring. Things aren’t okay, exactly, but the worst of this particular cloud has passed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t bring himself to text Enjolras. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire dodges Bahorel’s gloved fist, and throws a punch of his own back, glancing off of Bahorel’s side. They’re both breathing heavily, but Grantaire is flagging, and it’s obvious. He can’t be on his best form after the week he’s had. “Time out,” Bahorel calls it, and drops his gloves. Grantaire does the same, and leans against the ropes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, you getting tired of kicking my ass?” Grantaire asks, hint of a smile on his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s less fun when you suck,” Bahorel teases. “You’re distracted today.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well.” Grantaire is discomfited at that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You manage to smooth things over with your tv guy? Enjo-whatever?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire doesn’t meet Bahorel’s eyes. “He uh. He dropped the project,” he says, voice as light as he can make it. “It’s no big deal, probably wouldn’t have worked out anyway.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bahorel is outraged. “Fuck that, dude, you said it was going well!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, I’m unreliable, and that’s not news to anyone who knows me.” Grantaire’s voice gets a little sharper. “It’s whatever. Just - drop it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bahorel does. Sort of. “Sucks, man. But hey - if he can’t understand one shitty mental health week, you probably don’t want to be working with him anyway, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>drop it</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Grantaire is scowling now. “Or put your gloves back on so I can try and fail to hit you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, alright.” Bahorel holds his hands out as a peace offering. “C’mon, let’s hit the showers, you look done in.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh.” Grantaire does take his gloves off, though, and he’s just leaving the ring when he hears the heavy doors fall shut. He glances over out of habit, just as a painfully familiar voice rings out, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grantaire?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck this.” Grantaire groans and wonders what Enjolras is doing here, of all places. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bahorel is there, thank every god Grantaire doesn't’ believe in, a buffer between them. He looks menacing as he stands in the ring between Enjolras and Grantaire, arms crossed over his chest. “Oh, it’s you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enjolras looks bewildered, and then he looks at Grantaire, and frowns. “Can we talk?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire gestures at Bahorel to back down, and sighs. “Look, it’s fine, we don’t have to talk about it. I’m unreliable, you’re dropping the project, it’s fine. I get it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I -” Enjolras frowns. “I didn’t think I’d said anything so final.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had sure seemed that way to Grantaire at the time; but then, he did tend to jump to the worst conclusions when he was in that state, and he was worse at checking himself when he did. “Well, if you’re here to officially end it, cool, great, message received. You can go.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that what you want?” Enjolras looks serious. He’s holding a stack of papers in his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire wishes he was wearing a shirt, or at least that he’d had a chance to shower. “Isn’t it what you’re here for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Enjolras says, and he seems to mean it. “Look, I don’t know what happened, last week, but.. What you sent me, last night, it’s good. Really good.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What he’d sent..? Grantaire doesn’t remember sending Enjolras anything at all. But then, he’d had all that work all over his floor. He wonders what the fuck he’s done. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When it’s obvious that Grantaire isn’t going to say anything, Enjolras continues. “If you want to quit, I won’t stop you. You can do what you like. Especially - I don’t know if I had anything to do with it, with causing your -” He doesn’t seem to know what word to use. “If I did something to make all of that happen, I’m sorry. I know I can be difficult to work with. And whatever it was - If you’re willing, I’d like to talk about it. But this -” He holds up the stack of papers, “- this is incredible, Grantaire.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire sighs. “It’s not your fault,” he says eventually. “It’s - this happens. It won’t be the last time; I don’t do well under pressure, and sometimes I’m not good at taking criticism. I got overwhelmed, and I self-sabotaged, and I can pretty much guarantee that if we do this it’ll happen again. So.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So we’ll work on it,” Enjolras says, determined. “Now I know. You can tell me what helps, you can give me some warning if you start thinking it’s happening, and we can work around it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire looks at Enjolras. He’s not entirely sure he believes him, but then - Enjolras had seen him at the worst part of his messiness, and he’s back, and he wants to keep trying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Grantaire agrees after a long moment, and he can practically see the tension leaving Enjolras, mostly in his shoulders and his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank god,” Enjolras says. “Because this - this could be our pitch. I think we’re pretty much ready.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck - really?” Grantaire’s eyes widen. “Wait. What even is that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You - sent it to me this morning? At around 2am, if I remember right.” Enjolras frowns, puzzled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have no memory of sending you anything,” Grantaire admits, “But I did throw a bunch of shit out this morning when I was cleaning, and I didn’t look at any of it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He climbs out of the ring, and takes the papers from Enjolras. Most of it is familiar - a final version of some of what he’s done before. A pilot, the general plot. It’s just one episode pitch that’s new - the intrepid main character, still temporarily named Link, is trying to fly over a mountain to get to a friend’s party on the other side. For every little way they make it up, they have to detour and go back a little bit again, and it’s frustrating, and eventually they get upset, and think it must be their fault. It’s an episode about anxiety, and self-sabotage, and it ends with Link never making it to the top - instead, it’s revealed that trying to go over the mountain was an act of self-sabotage from the start, and Link discovers the easier path that goes through the mountain instead. It is good, to Grantaire’s surprise. It ties together the themes, and in hindsight more of Link’s struggles in previous episodes make sense through that lens. It’s a jumping off point to a new season; now that Link knows, they have to deal with it, start to work on it. It’s - a lot, honestly, and Grantaire sits down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re ready,” Enjolras says one more time, sitting with him. “I know it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>The month before the pitch passes in a frenzy of cleaning up the artwork, rehearsing their presentation, and practicing the questions Enjolras thinks the network will have. Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta take him out to buy a suit, and he thinks the result looks bizarre, honestly. He doesn’t think a suit suits him, but Joly wolf whistles supportively, and Musichetta assures him that if she weren’t very attached to her two boys, she'd tap that. Grantaire will have to take their word for it. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Before he knows it, the day has arrived. Enjolras is picking him up at 2, and their pitch is at 3:15. One fifty-five comes around and finds Grantaire standing in front of his mirror. His hair is as tamed as it can ever be, which, to his frustration, is not very tamed at all. He makes sure the tie is straight, a dark forest green, and shrugs on the jacket. He looks very put together in his charcoal grey suit, even Grantaire has to admit it. He takes a deep breath, and glances off to his side table. A month ago, he’d sat down with Enjolras and talked through what had happened. They’d come up with something like a strategy, and it wasn’t foolproof, but it helped. And Enjolras had mentioned, off-handedly, seeking more professional help. Grantaire had balked at the time, and complained to his friends that Enjolras had really thought it was that bad, only for his friends, the traitors, to admit they thought it was a good idea too. Joly had even said how much his own therapist was helping, and two weeks ago, Grantaire had finally gone himself. Now he has biweekly therapy, and a little bottle of pills. It’s too early for anything meant to be regular to start having much of an impact, but he’s also been given something for acute anxiety, and he hesitates a moment before taking one of those. It wouldn’t do to arrive at the pitch and have him throw up on the studio exec’s shoes. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>There’s a knock on his door, and Grantaire stands up straight, steeling himself. He answers the door, and there is Enjolras. He’s almost always wearing a suit, of course, but this one is still a touch nicer than usual. Enjolras himself is staring, Grantaire notices, and he tugs on the hem of the suit jacket. “It looks stupid, doesn’t it?” he frets. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“No!” Enjolras is quick to respond. “Um. No, you look - fantastic. Very sharp.” Enjolras reaches out to straighten Grantaire’s tie, despite Grantaire’s earlier efforts. “You clean up very well.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Oh. Uh, thanks.” Grantaire blushes a little, and searches for his shoes. “Right. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Enjolras claps a hand on Grantaire’s shoulder, probably meant to be reassuring. “You’ll be great,” he says, and they head for the car. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire catches Enjolras looking at him several times on the way to the studio, and then once they arrive, while they’re waiting for their appointment. “Hey - I promise I’m going to be okay. I won’t fuck this up for us,” he tries to reassure Enjolras, who just looks startled. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“What? I wasn’t worried.” He frowns at Grantaire, trying to puzzle him out. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You keep looking at me. It’s - I’m okay. Took my meds and everything.” He tries for a smile, but he really is nervous. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Enjolras smiles very genuinely at that, of course. “I’m really glad you decided to look into proper care for your mental health, you know. I know it’s not an easy step to take, and I’m proud of you for doing  it, I really am.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Oh.” Grantaire should have expected a speech like that; Enjolras is earnest and serious about most things. It takes him by surprise anyway. “Uh, yeah, I mean. It’s whatever.” He shrugs. He doesn’t really know how to respond. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“It’s not,” Enjolras says, just as earnest as before, but they are mercifully interrupted before he can say anything else. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Mr. Enjolras and Mr. Grantaire?” The secretary calls their names. “You can go in now.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>They look at each other and nod, standing up at the same time. Enjolras surprises Grantaire once more by pulling him into a hug. “We’ve got this,” he whispers. “I believe in you.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>And oh, if that doesn't both terrify and inspire Grantaire at once. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>They step into the office. There are three middle-aged white men in expensive looking suits sitting at one end of a long conference table. They stand, and Enjolras shakes each of their hands. Grantaire follows suit, and then they walk to their end of the table, where a projector is set up. Enjolras plugs in their usb stick and begins their presentation. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“First, I’d like to thank you all for being here. We’re very excited to be presenting our vision to you today.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Enjolras introduces them, and their idea, and the background, and some other technical things Grantaire follows better now than he would have when they first started. He’s absorbed a lot of knowledge, he realizes to his own vague surprise. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Before long, it’s Grantaire’s turn. He outlines the artistic vision, and dives into the pilot episode they’ve written. He explains the plot for the season, and the finale episode. The finale episode is the most nerve-wracking part - it’s not the ending you’d expect, with the main character, now named Styx, not actually making it over the mountain, and besides that, it’s the part that hits deepest for Grantaire himself. He’s poured a lot of himself into this show, he realizes as he shares it with these three indifferent looking men. They couldn’t begin to understand him, and he knows it, and he’s pouring his heart into this - but it just makes him more determined. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He explains the plan for a second season, for delving into the complex process of recovery, and tries not to think about the journey he finds himself starting now, with this show, with Enjolras, with fucking therapy and medication and all of that. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Enjolras takes over, and Grantaire blanks out. He knows this part, too, of course; Enjolras will say he’s found a co-writer with television experience named Prouvaire, that he’s attached as producer, that he’s got a director interested named Combeferre - someone he’s worked with extensively, apparently - and his ideas for casting. He’ll explain the budget he expects to work with, and the numbers make Grantaire’s head spin. He’ll defend his choice of animation studio. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire thanks the executives for their time and attention, and asks politely if they have any questions for them when they wrap up their presentation. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You said the age demographic for this is mainly preteens and young teens, but you hope younger children will be able to watch it as well,” a man in a boring black suit and a moustache begins. “Don’t you think the subject matter is a bit heavy? Not to mention subtle.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Young children aren’t immune from mental health struggles,” Enjolras replies. “The subtlety is the point, in my opinion; they won’t have the words for what they’re feeling yet, but they can still feel seen and understood by the media they consume, and I think this can be an entertaining show with fun visuals, without compromising the deeper meaning. We are targeting preteens and young teens for a reason, of course, rather than a younger demographic, because we think the show will mean the most to that demographic.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“There is an existing audience that you’ll fail to bring in, though, with that targeting,” the second man says. “Mr. Grantaire’s books are read mostly by children age 4 to 10. Why change the target audience?” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Enjolras looks like he’s about to answer, but Grantaire manages to jump in first, surprising both of them. “I asked the same thing, at first, sir. But I can tell you myself, it’s not just those kids who like the books. I have kids of all ages, and parents too, who want the art, who want to come to my events, who participate in readings and art camps and the like. And this is an opportunity to reach them with something that I feel, personally, is important. I don’t know what might be different if I’d had access to media like this at that age; all I know is I didn’t, and I had no idea what I was going through, and I was sure no grown up would ever take it seriously. And I want to make something that makes them feel like they matter. That’s what the books have always been about - the ways that kids’ feelings are real, and important, and worthy of taking up space. And I think it’s important to give those kids some credit - they understand more than we expect, a lot of the time.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>It’s a long-winded speech, and a more personal one than Grantaire meant to give. Enjolras is staring again, and he hopes he hasn’t fucked this up. The third man is smiling though, behind the hands steepled in front of his face. The other two look sceptical, but based on the way Enjolras seemed to address this third one in particular, Grantaire thinks that’s a good sign. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>There are more questions; budget concerns, casting suggestions. Grantaire thinks that they probably wouldn’t be asking these questions if they meant to turn them down outright, and Enjolras is animated and enthusiastic, which Grantaire takes as an equally good sign. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>It goes on forever. They ask questions, and Grantaire even answers a few more of them, discussing how he sees his art style translated to the silver screen, and more details about his plans for the themes of the show. There’s no clock in the room, so Grantaire has no idea how long it’s been when the third man clears his throat, and the room falls into silence. “My associates and I have a lot to discuss. You’ll hear from us one way or the other soon.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Thank you very much.” Enjolras nods once, and they are escorted from the office. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire lets out a shaky breath once they leave. “Fuck,” he mutters, tugging on the hem of his jacket again, wishing he could lose the tie. “That was..” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we stand a good chance,” Enjolras assures him. He’s practically vibrating at Grantaire’s side. “R, I think we really, really do.” It’s the first time Enjolras has used his nickname. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think?” Grantaire thinks they stand a chance, but he’s not sure how good. He can’t start to get his hopes up, not yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They liked us,” Enjolras insists. “I’ve had ideas thrown out after a twenty minute pitch, but we were in there for over an hour. They wouldn’t waste their time if they weren’t considering it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you say so.” Grantaire unbuttoned his jacket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me buy you a drink,” Enjolras requests, all in a rush. “To celebrate.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t know if we have anything to celebrate yet,” Grantaire points out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enjolras waves a hand. “To celebrate having finished the pitch at all. Whatever they decide, this was an accomplishment, and we both worked really hard. Let me buy you a drink. Please.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, if you say please,” Grantaire teases, but he wouldn’t have said no regardless. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They end up at the Musain, a nicer bar than Grantaire’s usual. Enjolras surprises Grantaire and orders a cocktail of some sort instead of wine, and Grantaire keeps it simple with a whisky and coke. They chat through their first drink, and a plate of nachos that they share. They talk about anything except the show and the pitch. Enjolras shares stories from when he was a student, about switching from law to media studies, about doing a masters in film production. He talks about parties with his actor roommate, Courfeyrac, and Grantaire can hardly imagine Enjolras young and drunk and partying, but it must be true. In return, he talks about trying and dropping hobbies, about fencing and dancing in high school, about his brief college stint. Enjolras asks about the boxing, and Grantaire talks about that, too, and tells the story of how he met Bahorel at an unofficial match struck up in a bar; how Bahorel had kicked his ass, and they’d been fast friends ever since. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They have a second round of drinks, and then Enjolras’ phone rings. His eyes go wide when he sees who it is, and shows Grantaire. The name is familiar - J. Valjean, the caller ID reads. “It’s the studio,” Enjolras says, and has to repeat himself over the noise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire’s eyes go wide to match Enjolras’, and he waves his hands. “Go! Take it! Outside, though, not in here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enjolras nods, and runs for the door, answering the phone as he goes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“..Yes, speaking.. Yes..” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire can’t stay sitting at the table; he downs the rest of his drink and follows Enjolras out to the street. Enjolras is just hanging up when Grantaire arrives. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well?” Grantaire demands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve done it,” Enjolras beams at him. “We have a green light to produce 40 twenty-minute episodes, one season, with the possibility of renewal. They’re giving us a budget of $42 million.” It was just barely under what they’d asked for. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes a moment for that to sink it. They’re going to do it, they’re going to make a television show. The budget is staggering, and Grantaire is left gaping at Enjolras, who bursts into giddy laughter. He hugs Grantaire tight and spins them around, and it shakes Grantaire back to himself. He grins back at Enjolras, and laughs with him. “Holy shit. Holy fucking shit, Enjolras, what the fuck, we did it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We did it!” Enjolras is glowing. Grantaire is infatuated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire is fucked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire buys them another round of drinks. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
  <span>They leave the Musain eventually and end up in a club, the Corinthe. Grantaire buys them shots. Enjolras pushes Grantaire against a table and unbuttons his shirt, and Grantaire’s brain shorts out. Before he can begin to understand what’s happening, Enjolras has taken his shot off of Grantaire’s body, jesus christ. Grantaire thinks Enjolras’ tongue on his skin will give him a heart attack, and he’s flushed red all the way down his chest. Enjolras laughs, and spins on the spot, and Grantaire is glad the music is loud, because he mutters out loud before he can think it through, “god, I love you.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“What?” Enjolras shouts over the music. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I said, let’s dance.” Grantaire shakes himself and pulls Enjolras onto the dance floor. This isn’t much better than the shots; Enjolras is pressed up against him, and when the song turns to a slow dance, Enjolras doesn’t go anywhere; he just wraps his arms around Grantaire and sways on the spot, a soft smile on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire can’t help but to match it, and they sway together. By the time the song ends, their heads are almost touching, forehead to forehead. Grantaire isn’t sure if he’s feeling his own heartbeat or Enjolras’, they’re so close. He closes his eyes, and the song turns upbeat again. They’re pressed up close to each other, and the song is something about sex, and when their lips meet, Grantaire isn’t sure who initiated. It doesn’t matter, because this is all he’s wanted for so goddamn long. He kisses Enjolras like his life depends on it, and Enjolras is kissing back just the same. They’re not dancing anymore, just making out on the dance floor like teenagers. Grantaire’s hand finds Enjolras’ ass, and he can’t believe this is happening. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I’ve wanted to do this since I saw you in that suit,” Enjolras says in Grantaire’s ear when they come apart for air. “All I could think about was how badly I wanted to tear it off of you again, do you have any idea what you do to me?” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire’s mouth goes dry, and his heart is beating out of his chest. His shirt is still undone, and he’s reminded of Enjolras’ tongue on his skin, Enjolras’ tongue in his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“If it’s anything like what you do to me,” Grantaire says back - has to shout, really, to make himself heard - then I can imagine. Fuck, Enjolras.” He kisses him again. Enjolras makes the most incredible sound, and Grantaire wants him. He wants him so bad, but - “We’re both drunk,” he hates to remind them. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I don’t care,” Enjolras says, and it’s so unlike him. “I know what I want, R.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire kisses him. Kisses down his neck, leaves a bruise where Enjolras’ throat meets his shoulder blade. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>The club is closing. They take a cab back to Grantaire’s place, because it’s closer. It’s a struggle for both of them to keep their hands to themselves, but they make it up to Grantaire’s door. Enjolras tugs Grantaire toward the bedroom, and Grantaire lets himself be tugged. Enjolras sits on the edge of the bed and pulls Grantaire forward so he’s standing between Enjolras’ legs, and he pulls Grantaire down by his tie for another kiss. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Wait here,” Grantaire murmurs, and he disappears into the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He comes back, and Enjolras is laying on his bed, fast asleep. The alcohol must have gotten to him. Grantaire smiles softly, and watches him for just a moment. It’s for the best, probably - they’re both so, so drunk. He pulls the blankets up to cover Enjolras, and presses a soft kiss to his forehead, before stepping out and curling up on his couch with a spare blanket. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire wakes up with a headache and a sore throat, but he’s always been lucky in the hangover department, so it’s no worse than that. He suspects Enjolras will feel worse, so he drags himself off the couch and begins frying eggs and bacon, and makes a big pot of coffee. He still can’t quite believe what happened; they were going to make their show, he’d kissed Enjolras, Enjolras had kissed him back, said he’d wanted him… Grantaire is almost whistling as he cooks, but he stops out of kindness when Enjolras comes stumbling out of his bedroom, still in slacks and a rumpled dress shirt, pale and groaning. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Drink.” Grantaire plants a mug of black coffee in front of Enjolras, who drinks it obediently, and drops his head on the table. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I feel like death,” he groans. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You look it,” Grantaire teases. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Enjolras groans again, and glares at Grantaire. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“There’s toast, bacon, eggs - nothing like a good old greasy breakfast as a hangover cure,” he promises. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“This is why I don’t drink,” Enjolras grumbles. “Nother good ever comes of it.” There’s a pause. “About last night..” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire’s stomach drops. Shit. Does Enjolras regret what happened? Of course he does, what was Grantaire thinking? Enjolras would never act like that, not with Grantaire, not sober. Fuck. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He pushes all of that away. There’s an easy solution, of course. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Hm? Did something happen last night?” Grantaire feigns ignorance. “I’m blessed in the hangover department, but fucked if I can’t remember a single thing after we arrived at the Corinthe.” It’s an out he knows Enjolras will take. He doesn’t want to have to talk about it, doesn’t want Enjolras’ gentle but firm rejection. This way, nothing has to change; there’s no reason to be awkward about it. It’s better this way. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire busies himself at the stove, and misses Enjolras’ wide eyes, misses the way Enjolras flinches. There’s a frown on his face, and something like hurt, but it vanishes by the time Grantaire returns, and Enjolras only looks blank. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“No.. nothing worth worrying about. I just - I was going to apologize for my behaviour. I don’t drink like that very often. Haven’t since college.” Enjolras says it all carefully. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire nods, like that doesn’t hurt. “Well, I guess you’re in luck - I don’t remember a thing.” He tries for casual, and misses by just a bit. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Thanks for breakfast.” Enjolras stands abruptly, most of his plate untouched. “And for letting me crash with you. I should get going.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Oh.” Grantaire does his best not to betray how badly he wishes Enjolras would stay. “Right. You want to shower, borrow some clothes, before you go?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“It’s fine. I’ll take a cab to the Musain, pick up my car,” Enjolras tells him, like he’d rather do a walk of shame than stay in Grantaire’s presence any longer. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire nods, and collects the plates. “Right..” He bites his lip. “Okay. Um. Congrats,” he tries a smile, and Enjolras smiles back. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You too.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>With that, Enjolras is gone. Grantaire looks at all the food he’d prepared, and collapses into a chair for just a moment, before getting up again and scraping it all into the compost bin Enjolras had insisted he get. He should have known. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>wow I really do end every chapter with a note to say sorry, huh? never an easy road for these two...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The thing gets written.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope y'all love Jehan as much as I do, because I adore them.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Television waits for no man’s drama. Things between Enjolras and Grantaire are stilted, awkward, but they’re far too busy to really dwell on it. Grantaire receives a contract, and Bahorel checks it over for him. They manage to negotiate something that feels fair - Grantaire maintains ownership of the story and characters, and won’t publish anything that would compete with the show - though the show will be for slightly older children, so it shouldn’t conflict. Enjolras is gathering the team, as they have it so far, for a lunch so they can all meet, which means Grantaire has to be on his best behaviour. His suit remains untouched at the back of his wardrobe, but he puts on a nicer pair of jeans and a shirt Joly insists brings out his eyes, and tries one last time to tame his hair before stepping onto the metro. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Enjolras is already there when Grantaire arrives, chatting with a tall, serious-looking man, and seriously, are all of Enjolras’ friends as hot as he is? The answer of course is no, because Enjolras exists in a class of his own, as far as Grantaire is concerned, but seriously, it’s unfair. He swallows and approaches the table. Enjolras manages a perfectly polite smile, and Grantaire does the same. “Grantaire, I’m so glad you could make it. This is Adrien Combeferre, he’s officially signed on as our director.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Pleased to meet you,” Combeferre says, and he holds out a hand. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire shakes it. He can’t read the expression on Combeferre’s face at all, but he gets the distinct feeling he’s being sized up, and despite himself, he finds himself wanting to measure up. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Likewise,” he says, and smiles at him. “Enjolras has nothing but glowing things to say about you.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Combeferre laughs at that. “And he’s had plenty to say about you as well,” he says. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire notes the lacking qualifier; were they good things or bad things? Probably a combination, he thinks, lately stacking mostly towards the latter. “If they were all good things, he’s a liar,” Grantaire half-jokes. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Combeferre half-smiles and leans back in his seat, and Grantaire gets the feeling that he’s passing whatever test this is. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I’m right here,” Enjolras complains, and Combeferre leans over to ruffle Enjolras’ hair. Grantaire can tell that these two go way back. He knows it, of course, because Enjolras has said so. They’ve been close since they were children, filming each other on their phones and making their own little movies. He’d love to see one of those someday; maybe Combeferre will be the one to be willing to show him. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Their final team member arrives to interrupt them, and Grantaire immediately likes them. They’re short, tiny really, with bright red hair and scribbles of ink all up their arms that Grantaire can’t make out. He knows they’re not tattoos, because some of them are smudged, and they’re too haphazardly placed. This must be Jehan, the co-writer. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Jehan plops themself down next to Grantaire. “I have been dying to meet you,” they say to him. “But first, I need your star sign.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Pisces,” Grantaire answers easily, interested in what Jehan will have to say about it. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Intuitive, emotional and changeable,” Jehan nods along. “I don’t suppose you have a full star chart?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I do, actually, but not memorized, I’m afraid. I’ll have to bring it along to our next meeting, and you can tell me what you think.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Enjolras clears his throat, but Jehan isn’t cowed. “These are important things to know about the new people we meet,” Jehan insists. “We’re going to be working together a lot, I need to know more about my co-writer.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Enjolras shakes his head affectionately. “I suppose we don’t need to make too many introductions, most of us have worked together before, though not on the same projects.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>And with that, they’re off. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire and Jehan get along like rain and earthworms. The pair of them are laying on Grantaire’s living room rug, talking in circles. Jehan, Grantaire has discovered, is a poet as well as a script writer, and they always have something written on their skin in various colours of sharpie; usually snippets of poetry, their own and other people’s, scribbled down whenever inspiration strikes. Grantaire has started adding doodles to their collection; a mountainous landscape wrapped around their skin just below the elbow, a fat little dragon in gold sharpie on one wrist. Today, Grantaire is drawing a vine up Jehan’s arm as they discuss the show. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“It’s about the vibes,” Jehan says, gesticulating wildly with one arm, while they keep the other still so as not to mess up Grantaire’s drawing. “I hadn’t read your books, but when Enjolras mentioned the project I went out and I bought all of them, and it’s - there’s a vibe,” they insist. “We have to keep it. I like it.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Vibes are important,” Grantaire agrees sagely, and adds a little blossom between two of the leaves on the vine. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“They are! There’s something special we can’t lose in translation.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire finishes the vine with a flourish, and Jehan sits up. “You’re very talented, you know. No -” They hold out a hand when Grantaire starts to interrupt. “You are. I’m excited to work with you.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I’m not easy to work with,” Grantaire warns. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Neither am I,” Jehan waves him off. “We’re a pair of oddities, you and I, but I know we’ll do this right.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire wishes he had Jehan’s confidence. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Anyway,” Jehan continues, “I think it’s about the themes, you know? Or - I mean, it is about the themes, but the </span>
  <em>
    <span>vibe</span>
  </em>
  <span> is in how you go about it. It’s very subtle, isn’t it? It’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>about</span>
  </em>
  <span> a specific topic, it’s just - a set of experiences kids relate to, and not just kids, I mean, some of them made </span>
  <em>
    <span>me </span>
  </em>
  <span>emotional. Which, to be fair, I am a very emotional person, but still.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire smiles. “I just want to give kids credit, you know? They pick up on a lot, and they feel a lot of things. Everything is new when you’re that young, like - every inconvenience really is the worst thing that’s ever happened to them, and it’s easy to dismiss it, from an adult perspective, but we gotta remember that to that kid, that minor difficulty is way bigger.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Jehan nods. “It’s important for everyone to be taken seriously, when they want to be.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I don’t want to talk down to them,” Grantaire agrees. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“There’s a message, but it’s for them to make meaning of.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Yeah, exactly. It’s not - that’s the problem with didactic shit, right, is like - you take that experience and prescribe a broad learning goal to it, and say ‘okay, this is the correct thing for you to take away from this’, and so much kid’s media does that. But kids can draw their own conclusions!”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“It’s more meaningful when you and your experiences get to be part of making meaning,” Jehan adds. “No set lesson, just - something to identify with, and your own knowledge and experience influences what you take away from it. I think it’s brilliant.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Thanks.” Grantaire loves how their ideas line up. This is easy, with Jehan. “I just think - the real world, real experiences, real lives, they’re not black and white, you know? And the things I make reflect that, I guess, it’s just not as simple as a difficulty overcome in a day by learning a simple lesson. It’s complicated, and kids know that.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Kids do know that.” Jehan inspects the vine on their arm. “Is this a yam vine?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire looks at it, and then at Jehan. “You just recognize a yam vine?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You drew one,” they point out. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I suppose I did.” He shrugs. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Why yams?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I have a friend who’s dead certain they reduce inflammation, so he’s trying to grow them in the garden,” Grantaire explains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh. I had no idea.” Jehan drops their arm to their side again. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>They write the pilot script together while having a picnic at the botanical gardens. A shared love of plants has been discovered, and Grantaire and Jehan now share custody of a spider plant named George. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s Spiders Georg,” Jehan insists when Grantaire draws the nametag. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That meme is ancient,” Grantaire informs them, but he writes Spiders Georg, as instructed, and adds a doodle of a jumping spider to one corner, with big eyes that Jehan coos over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jehan brings sparkling wine, brie, and crackers to their picnic. Grantaire brings ham and cheese sandwiches on dempster's white bread, and is declared a heathen by Jehan. Jehan ends up eating three of the sandwiches. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t be that bad if you’re willing to eat so many,” Grantaire teases. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shush your mouth,” Jehan defends themself, and takes another half. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire drinks more of the godawful sparkling wine and laughs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The pilot doesn’t change too much from the one Grantaire wrote for the pitch, but Jehan makes some suggestions that Grantaire loves - some witty dialogue that adds to the dynamic of an established friendship, a few scenes swapped around in the timeline. They spend the rest of the afternoon drawing Styx, the lead character, in less and less likely scenarios, including one where they are magically turned into a bumblebee, and another where they don some scuba gear and explore an underwater cave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They spend the rest of the day at the gardens after that. Grantaire doodles a dark purple Iris chrysographes onto Jehan’s forearm. Jehan adds swirling text that reads, ‘they are yours, and be the measure / of their worth for you to treasure’. “It’s Frost,” Jehan tells him when they catch Grantaire reading it. “A poem called Flower Gathering.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jehan recites the poem in full, and Grantaire listens. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Jehan giggles and breathes in, passing the blunt to Grantaire, who takes it. They’re making good headway on their work, and taking a well-earned break. Grantaire breathes in the smoke, and holds it for a moment. “Hang on a moment.” He jumps to his feet a minute later, and leaves the room. He returns with a smallish box, and opens it up, and plugs it in. The room is dark, and suddenly, projected on the walls and ceiling, there are stars, and galaxies, and constellations, turning slowly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whoah…” Jehan stares, open-mouthed. “Space.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Space,” Grantaire agrees. He looks around, and spots a constellation he knows the story to. “There’s Aries,” he points. “It’s a sad story. There’s a couple kids, with an evil stepmother, the usual, right? And then Hermes sends a ram to rescue them, except the sister falls off and drowns in the ocean, and only the brother makes it. And then! As some thanks for carrying them all the way across the ocean, the brother sacrifices the ram. Hypothetically, it’s that ram’s golden fleece in the Jason story,” Grantaire recites. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is sad,” Jehan frowns. “I suppose the sacrifice was to Hermes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was the ram that did all the work,” Grantaire stares at the ceiling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jehan takes another hit, and breathes the smoke out slowly. “I like Auriga,” they find the constellation, and point it out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know that one,” Grantaire admits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s a bunch of stories, but I like the one that says there was a shepherd, and he had a pregnant goat go missing. He searched day and night to find her, and when he did, she’d had her kids. He carried them all back under his arms, safe and sound, to the rest of the herd.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a nice one,” Grantaire agrees. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They lay on the floor and point out constellations, telling stories and laughing about the greeks and the romans. Eventually, they end up talking about their show again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay but - but imagine, Styx goes to space,” Grantaire grins. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What would a spacesuit for a dragon look like?” Jehan wonders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire reaches for pen and paper, and starts sketching. Styx is wearing a space suit with an oblong helmet to make room for the snout and the horns, and an extra piece to include the tail. They’re on a space walk, tied to a spaceship and floating amongst the stars. A ringed planet fills most of the background. Some of the side characters have their faces pressed to the glass of the spaceship’s observation deck, staring out at Styx and the stars. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jehan beams, and pulls out another notepad. “So it starts with Styx on the dragon planet, of course.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They meet someone new,” Grantaire suggests. “Everyone says the new dragon is weird, but that only makes Styx more interested.” He sketches a tiny blue dragon wearing a tinfoil hat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The new dragon is certain aliens are out there. He’s been abducted before,” Jehan adds, writing away. “But no one believes him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Styx isn’t sure, but doesn’t want to call the new dragon a liar. Tin Tim, that’s the new dragon’s name!” Grantaire laughs, and adds the name to the drawing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tin Tim. It’s perfect,” Jehan declares. “Tin Tim and Styx go out looking for aliens, and they find a spaceship.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the perfect proof! But they need more - people might say they made it themselves.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So they go in the spaceship, and it takes off!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They fly off into the sky, and it’s beautiful, of course. There’s stars, and planets, and they can see their home planet far, far below.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, they don’t actually know how to fly the spaceship, so getting home might be a challenge, they suddenly realize!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire is still sketching away furiously. Before long, they have a script and a storyboard, and as a joke, Grantaire sends it to Enjolras. The email he gets back sends both Grantaire and Jehan into a fit of weed-induced giggles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>From: Apollo</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Good evening, Grantaire. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>While I appreciate your efforts, and I don’t mean to write your work off, I’m uncertain how this fits into the broader narrative? I didn’t think there were plans to introduce space exploration or aliens. However, I do think Tin Tim could be an interesting exploration of how people can be othered for differing beliefs, and there’s potential there for an interesting story. If you and Jehan would like to discuss further, we can have coffee this week and discuss it? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sincerely, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enjolras</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire reads it aloud, doing his best to mimic Enjolras’ voice and tone. Jehan is nearly rolling on the floor laughing, and Grantaire himself can’t quite make it through straight-faced. He doesn’t respond to the email, just reaches across the rug for the bag of doritos, which had been pushed aside during their writing spree. “I don’t think Enjolras likes our space AU very much,” he giggles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jehan steals the doritos back. “Don’t worry, we’ll win him over with waffles and strawberries,” they assure Grantaire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And if not, this adventure will live on in our hearts and in the bonus DVD content,” Grantaire agrees, before dissolving into giggles once more. He responds to Enjolras’ email with only an alien emoji, and receives no more replies. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Jehan lives in a townhouse, Grantaire discovers. The townhouse resembles a greenhouse, first and foremost, with the sheer number of plants populating every possible surface. Next, Grantaire is delighted to nearly trip over Maya, an alarmingly large rabbit which Jehan informs him is a Flemish Giant named for Maya Angelou. Giant is truly the only word for her; she’s the size of a small child, and about as heavy. The pair of writers sit down on Jehan’s actual vintage chaise, and Maya hops up to plant herself on Jehan’s lap. “Let’s talk supporting cast,” Jehan suggests. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. We should be intentional about it,” Grantaire agrees. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess the thing to think about is - well, they’re dragons. So far, they’re all the Western idea of a dragon; do we want to include dragons from other places? Is that how we get at racial diversity?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It could be,” Grantaire muses. “I wouldn’t want to be too broad, though - I mean, I don’t want to be another show with a blanket ‘asian’ race, you know? Too many people already disregard the diversity between countries in Asia, see them as interchangeable.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could draw them based on specific regional legends,” Jehan suggests, “And we can make sure it’s specific using the names, too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe we should look into doing some consultation?” Grantaire suggests, thinking about it. “I mean, I can and will do some research, we both should, but it would be neat to also get some kids together, see what cultural things would be important to them to see reflected? We’ll never be able to have every possible kid represented, obviously,” he adds. “But at the very least, that could help inform what we do include?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jehan nods. “Maybe an event at the library you do readings at?” they suggest. “People already know and trust you there, right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire nods slowly. “I’ll look into it,” he promises. “You should come too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They agree to have a gender diverse cast, too, and a variety of pronouns, as well as affirming that Styx just won’t use any pronouns at all. “Is this a gender utopia sort of situation?” Jehan asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think so?” Grantaire considers it. “I mean, on the one hand, kids are supposed to identify with what the characters are going through..”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“..But on the other,” Jehan picks up where Grantaire leaves off, “It’s nice to also see a world where it’s not an issue.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly. I don’t know - what do you think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jehan considers it. “I don’t know either,” they admit. “I mean, when I was a kid, it would have been nice to see someone like me on screen at all, and I think both have an important place, you know?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I feel kinda the same about the race thing, like - shit, I get enough racism in my own life, do I need to see it in kids shows too? But then, the whole point of this show is letting kids feel reflected..” Grantaire muses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think.. Maybe something to be careful of is we don’t try to tackle too much?” Jehan points out. “I mean, the first season is mostly about Styx’s mental health journey, even if it’s not so upfront about it. We can have casual representation, and even ways that some of the other things - race, gender, ability - affect those struggles, without making them the main plot?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire considers it. It’s a good point - shows that try to do too much fall flat on their face, he’s found. He doesn’t want to gloss over any subject, but he thinks Jehan has a good point. He says so. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I always have good points,” Jehan sniffs, and then laughs. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Two months have passed since Jehan and Grantaire met in that cafe when they flop on Jehan’s chaise with Maya the rabbit, and stare at their computer screens. “I think,” Grantaire says after a moment, “we’ve finally done it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we have.” Jehan sounds about as stunned as Grantaire feels. There will be revisions, of course, the editing and filming and production is still yet to happen, but they have a draft of 40 episodes worth of television, and concept art to go with it, and it feels like a milestone Grantaire never expected to make it to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There had been bad days, and bad weeks. There had been trips to the gardens, and nights of smoking weed and listening to 80s psychedelic rock, and even a memorable trip to a star party, and in between there had been this story, slowly being formed between the two of them, and Grantaire finds that he loves it, every bit of it, despite - or maybe because of - how difficult it had been. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enjolras is going to tear it to shreds,” Jehan says mournfully, and Grantaire laughs, only a little despairing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’ll make it even better though,” Jehan assures him. “I trust him. He has a good vision.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, I hope so,” Grantaire says, thinking of how they’d fought putting the pitch together. They’d gotten better, after his breakdown, but he wonders, with the new distance between them, if it’ll hold up. They’ve improved, they’re not as awkward as they had been that morning; in fact, he’d even say they’re friends again, even if that friendship is a little more distant on both their parts than it had been. But that doesn’t mean he’s not worried. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’ll be alright,” Jehan says cheerfully, and nudges Grantaire’s shoulder. “I promise.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I believe you.” And he even does his best to mean it. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>for once, not a tragic ending? You're welcome :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>We meet more people, and Enjolras and Grantaire, well... when have they ever had their shit together?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>At first, it seems to be going well. Being forced to spend more time with Enjolras helps them get over the remnants of their awkwardness, and they tend to agree on the broader points, which helps. Most of the time Jehan is there, too, as a buffer. Grantaire can only be grateful for Jehan; they’re someone who shares his own point of view on a lot of issues, but also understands better what Enjolras means, and what he believes, and it means Jehan does a lot of translating between the two of them. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>After meetings, Grantaire and Jehan often go to decompress together, which was Jehan’s idea and clearly mostly for Grantaire’s benefit. It’s through one of these times that Jehan and Bahorel meet for the first time. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>When it happens, Grantaire isn’t sure what to expect. Bahorel is coarse, where Jehan is gentle, and Bahorel swears where Jehan recites poetry, but of course, they get along like a house on fire. Bahorel brings something out in Jehan that Grantaire had only caught glimpses of before; it turns out Jehan knows some unusual martial art, and takes incredible glee in taking Bahorel down with only a few moves. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“God help anyone who crosses you,” Bahorel says admiring, looking up at Jehan from where he’s been knocked on the ground of the sparring ring at the gym. “You’re a tiny menace, is what you are.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Everyone underestimates me,” Jehan says generously. “It’s their own fault, of course.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Absolutely.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire knows Bahorel well. He’s also become close with Jehan - unsurprising, really, given how quickly they’d started getting along in the first place. Which means he knows that look in Bahorel’s eye, and he suspects these fights are more their way of flirting than anything else - on both of their parts. Whatever - he isn't about to get between them. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire leaves them to it, and heads to a nearby cafe to start working on the edits Enjolras gave them. He gets absorbed into his work pretty quickly, which means that he doesn’t notice anything else around him until the chair opposite his table makes a drawn out scraping sound as it’s pulled out. “Hey, I didn’t know you come here?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>It’s Enjolras. He continues, “Do you mind if I join you?” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire shrugs. “I’m not here often, it’s just the closest place to Bahorel’s gym,” he explains. “But uh, sure, yeah, go for it.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Enjolras sits, and pulls out his laptop. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>It’s awkward only for a moment, and it’s a sign of progress. They haven’t been alone together much since that Morning After, as Grantaire has titled it, capital letters and all, in his own head. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You and Jehan seem to be getting along well,” Enjolras remarks when they both break from working in silence. There’s something odd about his tone that Grantaire can’t quite place.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You jealous?” he asks, teasing. “Jehan is my new best work friend. You’ve been replaced, I’m afraid.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Enjolras makes a face that Grantaire would characterize as a pout, if he were willing to ascribe any such thing to someone like Enjolras, but it clears quickly. “I have no reason to be jealous,” he says, and just like that, it’s back to awkward. “Just.. concerned.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Is it a problem that we get along?” Grantaire asks with a crease in his brow. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Of course not. I just worry - if you end up romantically involved, and it goes wrong, it’ll impact the show.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire had been mid-sip of his coffee, and he nearly chokes. “If we end up </span>
  <em>
    <span>what now?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He asks, once he can breathe again. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I just - have observed how close you seem to be,” Enjolras says carefully. “Was I.. mistaken?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Holy shit. Fuck. Yeah, no, we’re not -” Grantaire laughs, almost hysterical. “I love them to bits, don’t get me wrong, but - no.” In another world, maybe, Grantaire thinks, there could be something there. In a world where Grantaire isn't still pathetically pining after someone who definitely doesn’t want him, in a world where Bahorel isn’t right there being perfect for Jehan. But no, Grantaire thinks, he wouldn’t be able to give Jehan all the attention they deserve when he’s still so caught up on Enjolras. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He’s too busy thinking about the possibility to notice Enjolras’ very temporary but very obvious flash of relief. Even if he had, he probably would have written it off for the very reasons Enjolras gave, relief that he isn’t messing around with a coworker and risking their team dynamic. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“That’s.. For the best,” Enjolras says eventually. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Heh. Yeah. Besides, I’m pretty sure that by the time the week is out, Jehan will be having aspirationally athletic sex with one of my best friends,” Grantaire snorts. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Enjolras raises an eyebrow at that. “Good for them, I guess? As long as they don’t get too distracted.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Jehan is distraction personified, but they still manage to channel that into work anyway,” Grantaire says, and if he’s jealous of anything it’s that ability. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Well, make sure they keep the rating of the show in mind,” Enjolras jokes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire laughs. “Will do, boss.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enjolras crinkles his nose. “I’m not your boss. We’re all a creative team on equal levels-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cartoon communism, got it,” Grantaire grins at him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Just like that, it’s like the tension is gone. Grantaire isn’t sure what did it, but they get along again, and he thinks the weirdness between them might finally be well and truly banished. It means they start seeing each other more often again, too. Jehan is there, a lot of the time, since usually when they see each other they’re working, but now they can all work in a room together. Sometimes Combeferre is there, too, but since his role will come more during actual production, most of the time when he’s there, it’s because they’re meeting at Enjolras’ home, and he tends to just be around. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire finally meets Robi the cat, and she seems to hate him at first, hissing and hiding. Enjolras tells him apologetically that she’s like that with most new people, but it’s harder to take when she seems to adore Jehan and Combeferre. Still, Grantaire perseveres, presenting her with cat treats he’d bought at some artisanal cat shop he’d thought Enjolras would appreciate, and sitting still on the floor, letting her build up trust. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>It’s a moment of victory when Grantaire arrives at Enjolras’ door once more, bearing a bottle of wine to go with the dinner Enjolras had said Combeferre was coming over to make, and Robi comes to the door to greet him with an affectionate headbutt. He leans down to pet her, and she runs off again, but it doesn’t sour the victory for Grantaire - he’s growing on her, he knows it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a friendly dinner, not a work one. Enjolras’ other friend and college roommate, Courfeyrac, will apparently be there, as well as Jehan, who is bringing Bahorel. Their budding romance would be cute, if Grantaire didn’t have to watch them make out so often. Enjolras’ sister, Cosette, is bringing her boyfriend, Marius. Enjolras and Combeferre both seem to be hesitant about him, but Grantaire hasn’t met Marius or Cosette yet, so he’s withholding his own judgement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another familiar face comes to the door - it’s Gavroche, which means, Grantaire supposes, that his sister will also be there. Eponine, if he remembers right. “Uh oh, I sense trouble,” Grantaire grins at Gavroche, who winks back at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And don’t’cha forget it,” Gavroche says. “C’mon, Enjolras said you’d draw me as a dragon if I asked nice.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, did he now?” Grantaire doesn’t mind, of course. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don't care if you do or not,” Gavroche tries to recover his cool. “But if you want to, it’s whatever.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire follows Gavroche inside. He recognizes about half the people here. He recognizes Courfeyrac, too, because he’s an actor and he’s done some rom-coms Grantaire likes to watch when he’s high or when he’s sad. He waves hello when Enjolras calls his name in welcome. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Apparently Gavroche is indifferent towards whether or not I draw him a dragon, so I think I’d better make sure I do,” he jokes, and it serves as an excuse to dodge the many incoming introductions for now. He’d wanted to turn down the invitation, only his therapist thinks this will be good for him, and he likes her, and doesn't want to disappoint her. So he’s here, bottle of wine deposited on the kitchen counter, and he disappears into the living room with Gavroche to find out what colours Gavroche wants to be as a dragon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Green,” Gavroche announces. “Green and gold. Or whatever,” he shrugs, and Grantaire finds his sparkliest gold marker and gets started. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Add more spikes,” Gavroche insists. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire complies, adding a bunch of spikes to the end of the tail until Gavroche looks satisfied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S’alright,” Gavroche sniffs, and clutches the paper close when Grantaire finishes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire grins at him. “Can I put that as a review on my next book? ‘S’alright - Gavroche Thenardier’. I think with that glowing commendation I’ll be sure to sell out.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gavroche laughs. “You can’t put that as a review on a book, it’s a review on your art,” he points out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As a general review on my website, then,” Grantaire accepts that Gavroche is right, actually. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eh. If you wanna.” Gavroche shrugs, and then runs off again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Grantaire gets back to his feet, bemoaning silently that he’s getting too old for his knees to take sitting on the floor like that, he notices a woman he doesn’t know standing in the doorway, watching. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Been wanting to meet the famous R,” she says, and Grantaire suspects that this must be Eponine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gav’s a good kid,” he says. “You must be Eponine?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The one and only,” she nods. “You’re not bad with him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can see where he gets his gift for flowing compliments,” Grantaire banters back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eponine cracks a smile. “You’re going to have to add his review to your website now, you know - he’ll check.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that alright with you?” Grantaire checks. Gavroche is just a kid, after all, and he should probably get Eponine’s permission before publishing anything he says on the internet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure.” She shrugs. “He’ll love it, and it’s not like it’s anything bad.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire doesn't ask why she is the one taking care of him, when they can’t be more than ten years apart in age. He doesn’t ask about their parents. He knows plenty about shitty parents, and he figures Eponine doesn't want to talk about it with a near stranger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, he opens up his website on his phone, and toggles to the review page, before adding Gavroche’s remarks. He shows Eponine for approval before he posts it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another pair joins them in the living room - a blonde woman who looks an awful lot like Enjolras, and a man staring adoringly at her. This must be Cosette and Marius, then. A look at Eponine’s face tells Grantaire she isn’t pleased to see them, but she hides it well. Curious - Enjolras had said Eponine and Cosette are friends, so it must be another person who dislikes Marius. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ep!” Cosette greets her friend with a wide, open smile and a hug. Grantaire watches her, looking for similarities with Enjolras. He doesn't have long, though, before she turns her attention to him. “And </span>
  <em>
    <span>you,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she has a scheming look on her face. “You must be Grantaire.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The one and only.” He goes for a handshake, and she hugs him instead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enjolras has told me </span>
  <em>
    <span>so much</span>
  </em>
  <span> about you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire wonders what Enjolras said to get him this sort of an introduction. Nothing too horrible, he supposes - Cosette seems thrilled to meet him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cosette continues, “I see you’ve met Eponine. I’m Cosette, and this is Marius.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marius waves somewhat awkwardly. Grantaire waves back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire ends up liking Cosette. She’s more open than her brother, but just as witty. They end up discussing prison reform until Combeferre calls everyone back in for dinner, and Grantaire is pleased but surprised when Cosette sits next to him, Marius in tow, to continue their conversation. He wants to introduce her to Musichetta; he thinks they’d get along wonderfully, and he says so. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She sounds lovely! Perhaps you can host the next lunch, and I can meet her then,” she suggests sweetly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire can’t say no to her, of course, so he agrees, thinking that he’s definitely getting himself in over his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“It just seems like a wasted opportunity,” Enjolras is saying, and Grantaire has to count to ten in his mind, thinking of the grounding techniques his therapist has given him. Jehan isn’t here - this wasn’t supposed to be a work meeting. Enjolras is apparently incapable of not turning every conversation into work, though, somehow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does it now?” Grantaire asks through narrowed eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t take that tone,” Enjolras says, taken aback. “I just mean - this show is already tackling such important issues. Doesn't it seem like a waste to you, to have such a diverse cast of characters and not tackling the social issues around that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, actually, it doesn’t,” Grantaire frowns. “We’re already tackling important issues, you said so yourself. I’m happy to address shit like racism when it intersects with the core topics of the show, but I also think that maybe characters of colour are allowed to just exist. And characters who are women are allowed to just exist, and trans and queer characters are allowed to exist, without their whole purpose being boiled down to the prejudices they would face in the real world.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s lazy not to talk about it,” Enjolras disagrees. “We have the opportunity, we should take it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can’t do it justice anyway in the time frame we have, not without it being a bigger focus,” Grantaire points out, getting more and more defensive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don't see why you won’t at least put the effort in,” Enjolras seems frustrated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t see why we have to bother!” He knows they won’t be able to do it properly, not without making it a bigger theme, and they’ve already got big themes. In another season, maybe, but he also thinks it could be genuinely good for people to see characters like them on screen without it being about their oppression. Of course for Enjolras, everything is a fucking crusade. Grantaire knows he isn’t making his point eloquently, but he doesn’t have the energy for this fight. Again. How many times does he have to have this fight with Enjolras? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you see what we could accomplish here?” Enjolras demands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Apparently not,” Grantaire says, short. He stands, and grabs his laptop. “I need a smoke.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t come back. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Cosette calls, which is a surprise, but a pleasant one. She invites him to join her on a walk, and Grantaire agrees, a little wary of ulterior motives but intrigued all the same. At first, it seems she really did just want his company on a walk, and someone to carry her shopping bags for her as they browse some boutiques. She picks out a button-down shirt in a shade of green she says looks wonderful on him for Grantaire, and he consults on accessories for a pretty blue dress she shows him a photo of. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His guard has lowered by the time they ‘run into’ Enjolras. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enjolras! How lovely to run into you,” Cosette says sweetle. “R and I were just doing some shopping.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Oh.” Enjolras looks surprised, and a little confused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” Cosette perseveres, and Enjolras’ frown grows more pronounced. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought I told you I was out looking to replace my old dress shirt today,” Enjolras says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh dear, I must have forgotten! Well, while you’re here, I must have your opinion on this outfit. Wait here with Grantaire,” she orders him, and Enjolras glances between Grantaire and Cosette, who has vanished in the direction of the dressing rooms. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  
  <span>“Nice weather we’re having,” Grantaire says after a few minutes of suitably awkward silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Quite.” Enjolras looks around. “Cosette is taking an awfully long time. Do you think we should..” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, we’d better go check on her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Cosette emerges from the dressing room, Enjolras tells her dutifully that she looks lovely, and then repeats the same opinion for her next three outfits. Conversation between him and Grantaire is stilted the whole time. On the fifth repetition of this, Cosette huffs. “Oh, I don’t know why I bother!” she says. “Boys!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They part ways outside the shop again, R and Enjolras equally bewildered by the whole affair. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not that simple!” Grantaire is almost shouting, and Enjolras is red-faced at the table across from him. “Life isn’t that black and white, goddammit, Enjolras, even a kid can see that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So we abandon all attempts at setting a good example?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck even is a good example? God!” Grantaire throws his hands up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is the point of this show then?” Enjolras isn’t shouting, but he’s not calm either. Instead he’s icy cold, radiating anger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t write it,” Grantaire says, standing his ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then what’s the point of you?” Enjolras’ eyes go wide as soon as he says it, like he knows it’s too far. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire shutters, and he’s suddenly, impossibly calm. “That’s the question of the year, isn’t it?” He leaves. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re infuriating!” Enjolras shakes his head at Grantaire. “I don’t understand you at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that’s fucking obvious,” Grantaire scowls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t see why you can’t just -” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not can’t, it’s won’t,” Grantaire interrupts, wanting to be absolutely clear. “I won’t write it your way.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You might be used to always getting your own way, but this is a team. We’re supposed to be working together, Grantaire, and for once, it’s not all about you!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s still my creation,” Grantaire says. “You got into this with me knowing how I feel about that.” His greatest fear from the start had been his vision, his creation, being taken away and changed into something unrecognizable, something he’d hate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you came into this project knowing some compromises would have to be made!” Enjolras turns it back on Grantaire. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh!” Grantaire makes a noise of frustration, and he turns on his heel to leave. This always seems to be how their conversations end nowadays. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, he’s turned halfway when Enjolras catches his arm, something strange alight in his eyes. “Stop walking away from me.” And Enjolras kisses him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire kisses back. He grips Enjolras’ waist and takes a forceful step forward, and Enjolras makes the most incredible sound Grantaire thinks he’s ever heard. They’re sober this time, part of him reminds him. They can’t pretend this didn’t happen. He pushes it away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enjolras is the one to deepen the kiss, to bite angrily at Grantaire’s lip. Grantaire is the one who pushes Enjolras against the back of the couch and tugs his shirt off. Enjolras is the one to stop kissing Grantaire only long enough to pull him in the direction of the bedroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enjolras is beautiful like this. Of course, he’s always beautiful; Grantaire can never keep his eyes off of him. But angry, and wanting, he’s stunning in a way Grantaire has only dared imagine. He should stop this, but he doesn’t. Enjolras doesn’t either. Grantaire had thought Enjolras would be thorough, and meticulous, but methodical, the way he is about most things. He should have expected the passion, though; Enjolras is passionate about everything in a way Grantaire can barely comprehend, and apparently that applies to this, too; to Grantaire, to this moment. It’s intoxicating. When Enjolras fucks him, Grantaire feels the weight of Enjolras’ full attention, and he can barely breathe under it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they’re done, Enjolras disappears into the bathroom to throw out the condom and find a cloth to clean them both up. Grantaire suspects he’s about to be thrown out unceremoniously, and he takes the coward’s way out, and pretends to have fallen asleep. He hears Enjolras sigh, but then he feels the gentle touch of the damp cloth on his skin, and minutes later, a dip beside him as Enjolras climbs into bed alongside him. Neither speaks as they both fall asleep for real. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire wakes up in the morning in an unfamiliar bed. He blinks, and rolls around to find the other half of the bed is empty. He’s sore in places that tell him last night wasn’t just a dream - it really happened. And Enjolras is gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows, logically, that Enjolras wouldn’t have just left. This is Enjolras’ apartment, surely he’s just up already. He groans quietly to himself and sits up. He takes another moment, and makes his way to the bathroom. A spare towel and toothbrush have been laid out, and he can’t help but smile. Of course Enjolras is still kind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks in the mirror. He has a vivid bruise just below his jaw, and he is thrown briefly back into the moment that Enjolras left it there. He turns on the shower, and lets the cold water wake him up and calm him down, even if it does nothing for his sore muscles. It’s been a while. He steps out, dries off, and brushes his teeth. He doesn’t have spare underwear, but he puts his old jeans and t-shirt back on once he finds them folded on a chair in the bedroom - Enjolras’ doing again, he knows. He doesn’t particularly like going commando in his jeans, but he’s suffered far, far worse in his life. He’ll live. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s as presentable as he’s going to get. The bruise is a traitor, the only visible mark of the night before on him now that he’s dressed. He takes a deep breath, and walks out into the rest of the house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enjolras is in the kitchen. He’s dressed more casually than Grantaire has ever seen him, in pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt that must be from his even more political university days. He looks good, with his hair up in a messy bun, and Grantaire swallows, feeling even more scrubby than usual. “Mornin’,” he says, uncertain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning.” Enjolras looks hesitant for only half a second, and then determined. “There’s coffee in the pot, help yourself.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire nods, and fills a cup. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m making frittata,” Enjolras says. “If you want some.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Just the coffee. Thanks,” Grantaire says, unsure what’s expected of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enjolras nods. He doesn’t seem bothered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen. What happened last night..” Enjolras starts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Won’t happen again,” Grantaire promises, though he’s pretty sure Enjolras is the one who kissed him first. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Right.” Enjolras nods. “It was a one-time thing. No need to be awkward about it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Grantaire agrees. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It is not a one-time thing. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It happens again less than a week later. In the morning, Grantaire can’t even remember what they fought about, but he makes coffee, which Enjolras drinks, and pancakes, which Enjolras turns down. It happens half a dozen times again after that, too; sometimes at Enjolras’ house, sometimes in Grantaire’s apartment. Once they fight in public, and Grantaire ends up blowing Enjolras in the bathroom. It would be a problem, except that it suits both of them just fine for now. If it were a relationship, it could only be described as explosive, but since they’re not dating, they both figure it’s fine. And they do tend to find compromises relatively quickly afterwards. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire tells Bossuet, who tells Joly and Musichetta. He gets a phone call from Joly the same day telling him to use protection and be smart and safe, and when’s the last time either of them was tested? Grantaire promises to make an appointment. Musichetta waits until he comes over to their place for Saturday Morning Mimosas before cornering him to make sure he’s really okay with it. And in a roundabout way, he is. Sure, he likes it when they get along, and maybe this isn’t the best coping method in the world, but he’s having fun, and he knows it’s just sex; he’s not about to get his heartbroken. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His therapist thoroughly disapproves of Grantaire’s life choices. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bahorel, on the other hand, sees Grantaire’s hickey after that first night and slaps him on the back in congratulations. Jehan thinks it’s romantic, and that they’ll inevitably - Grantaire doesn’t even know what Jehan thinks will happen. It’s obvious that Enjolras doesn’t want anything else, and honestly the sex is really good. It’s the most regularly he’s gotten laid in ages. This is fine, Grantaire insists to anyone who will listen. And it is. It really is. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The script is almost finished. Grantaire can hardly believe it; they have a few more episodes to nail down towards the end, but production has already started on the pilot. Grantaire likes Combeferre a lot, in the end; he does tend to side more with Enjolras, but he’s more down to earth, somehow, and Grantaire thinks he’s good at finding a working middle ground between them. He feels a little bad about Combeferre being stuck between him and Enjolras; they’re both strong personalities, and stubborn. He appreciates that Combeferre listens to him at all, honestly; the only one he really has to answer to is Enjolras - and of course the studio execs, who have also started sticking their noses in to check on their progress. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s an episode somewhere in the middle, seemingly inconsequential, that makes everything blow up in their faces. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Styx is supposed to solve a puzzle. Everyone says it’s a simple puzzle, and Styx just can’t figure it out. The stakes aren’t high, there’s no one’s life hanging in the balance; it’s just a simple episode about Styx being told something is easy, and finding it difficult. It’s filler, really, meant to be an easy, low-stress episode to both create and watch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think there should be a consequence to Styx not figuring it out,” Enjolras muses as they’re workshopping. This episode isn’t meant to be a focus for their meeting; they’re just skimming over some of the filler episodes before they finalize the finale at the end of the week. A low-stress meeting for all of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’d officially finished an hour ago. Jehan had begged off when it seemed like they were in the clear, and Combeferre had an early morning of work tomorrow for some early episodes, so it was just Enjolras and Grantaire left in Enjolras’ apartment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Grantaire has been doodling for the past 20 minutes while Enjolras skimmed to make sure there was nothing else to talk about. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Episode 22,” Enjolras pushes the storyboard at Grantaire. “It just seems… I mean, who cares if Styx can’t get the puzzle, who does that impact?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one, that’s - that’s not the point,” Grantaire frowns. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But what is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a filler episode,” Grantaire shrugs. He doesn’t want to fight, not about this one. He wishes Jehan were still here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It should still have a point, though,” Enjolras says thoughtfully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think it’s good how it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Do you care to elaborate on why?” Enjolras asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Grantaire answers. He wishes it could be that easy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wouldn’t have to be a big change,” Enjolras reasons. “Just something small, to add some stakes to the conflict.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to change it. Come on, Enjolras, I’ve been on my best behaviour all day, making changes for you. Let me keep this one episode.” Grantaire isn’t pleading, but he really hopes that maybe, just maybe, Enjolras will let him have this one. “This one’s important to me,” he adds, hoping against hope that that will be enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just a filler episode,” Enjolras looks confused, and Grantaire can tell he’s starting to get irritated. “You said so yourself.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does everything have to be high stakes? Maybe to a kid, not being able to do something everyone else says is easy is high enough stakes.” That’s uncomfortably close to too personal for Grantaire as it is; this one hits close to home. He grew up frequently feeling like things that were easy for everyone else were impossibly hard. That feeling has followed him into adulthood. Feeling incompetent has always been one of the hardest things to deal with in his anxiety. This episode isn’t important in the grand scheme of things, maybe, but to Grantaire, it’s his favourite one. It’s the one that, when he asked himself what he’d have most needed to see as a kid, he’d come to as the answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enjolras has no way of knowing any of that, of course, and Grantaire has no desire to explain it. It should be enough that this is important. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn't have to be high stakes, but there has to be some kind of stakes,” Enjolras shakes his head. “It’s not good writing if there’s no reason for people to care about the conflict.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ouch. That hurts; Grantaire does his best not to flinch. “Maybe this episode just isn’t for you, then, is it? Someone like you wouldn’t understand feeling like you’re not good enough.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, please, everyone has moments where they have self-doubt. I’m not attacking your skills as a writer, Grantaire, I’m just saying this can be improved.” Enjolras doesn’t get it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you? You just said it’s not good writing,” Grantaire scowls. He stands from the couch and paces. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is my job, Grantaire, we’ve been over this,” Enjolras is glaring at him now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, fuck off,” Grantaire glares right back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enjolras stands and grips Grantaire’s arm, hard. “You’re impossible.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire rips his arm free. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enjolras tries to kiss Grantaire. Grantaire pushes him away, and Enjolras reels, looking stunned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck </span>
  <em>
    <span>off</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Grantaire growls. “Your magical dick can’t fix everything.” He pushes past Enjolras and leaves. Enjolras stares after him, wondering what just happened. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>They don’t speak again until the meeting on Friday. Not so much as a text or a call. At the meeting, they’re both perfectly civil. They sort out the finale, which has already been hashed and rehashed to death. Grantaire thinks that if he has to read the finale script one more time he’s going to destroy every copy himself. Jehan seems tired, too, and Enjolras won’t even look at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the meeting ends, they go their separate ways. Jehan seems bewildered at the sudden change between them, but Grantaire leaves before they can interrogate him about it. He feels bad about it, it’s not Jehan’s fault, but he doesn’t want to talk about it. He just wants this shit-show to be over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thinks about how he’d said he wasn’t going to get his heart broken, and about how this is all his own damn fault. He goes home and has a drink. He ignores Cosette’s call, when it comes, and then Jehan’s, and eventually he just turns his phone off. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Grantaire knows his role at this point is peripheral. He’s done the storyboards and the script, and now it’s in Combeferre’s capable hands. Still, he finds himself frequently called in. Combeferre and Enjolras are both in an office, for once, at the PBS studio, looking at something on a computer. “Some test footage for the animation,” Combeferre explains. “We wanted your opinion, since you’re the artist.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>It’s nice to be consulted, even if it means breathing the same air as Enjolras for the first time in two weeks. Enjolras had called a couple times, texted even more, but Grantaire has been ignoring him. It’s not fair, and he knows it, which is why he’s also been avoiding Jehan and Cosette’s calls. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Enjolras looks exhausted, and he gets this wary look in his eye when he sees Grantaire that Grantaire doesn’t want to interrogate. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Thanks,” he addresses Combeferre instead. He assumes it’s Combeferre who really wants Grantaire’s opinion, and he’s saying ‘we’ just to be polite. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire sits on Combeferre’s side, so he’s not near Enjolras, and watches the footage with them. It’s sort of amazing, to watch it come to life like this. The art isn’t precisely his style, but he can see how it’s inspired by the concept art he gave Combeferre ages ago. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Combeferre explains some of the intricacies of the animation, about the choices the animators made and the justifications they gave. Grantaire listens, considers. He has some notes, but honestly, he likes it. The colours are soft, like his own drawings, and there are dragons of all sorts of shapes, sizes and colours. When he watches, he can almost see the air resistance against their wings. It’s exciting, genuinely, and he can’t see it, but he’s lit up with a sort of childlike wonder that he hasn’t felt in a long time. It’s been one thing, this whole time, to know this was happening, but it’s another to see one of his dragons flapping about on screen. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire finally gets around to hosting a lunch, as he’d promised Cosette ages ago. Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta come over to help him prepare; between them, they spend most of the day in the kitchen. Grantaire has chosen to make his grandmother’s Pho recipe. The broth itself, he decides, will be a vegetable base, to make sure everyone can eat it. And then they go about making every possible mix-in. Grantaire rolls the noodles by hand. He’s out of practice, and the first few batches turn out not quite right, but by the time he’s done, they’re looking pretty respectable. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Combeferre is the first to arrive. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“It smells delicious,” he says. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“R made the noodles by hand,” Joly pipes up, determined to see R get his due credit. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Combeferre looks suitably impressed. “I can’t wait to try them.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Combeferre and Bossuet get talking about aliens, one way or another, leaving Grantaire to answer the door again for the next visitor. It’s Courfeyrac, this time, a bottle in hand, and Marius and Cosette close behind him. “Enjolras will be up in a moment,” Courfeyrac informs him, “He’s just finding a place to park.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire nods like that’s perfectly fine, because it is, of course it is, their fight was weeks ago now, and he’s over it. He is. Really. Courfeyrac starts mixing drinks, and Cosette pauses in the doorway to put a reassuring hand on Grantaire’s arm. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“He misses you, you know,” she says, quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire doesn’t quite know what to say to that, because really, it seems like it can’t be true. He’d acted like an idiot, refusing to explain why he was upset, how could he have expected Enjolras to read his mind? And now he’s the one refusing to talk to or acknowledge Enjolras at all, so why would Enjolras miss him? By all rights, Enjolras should be moving on. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>She doesn’t seem to expect him to say anything, though, because she hands Marius her jacket to hang up, and makes her way into the apartment. Grantaire follows, and introduces her to Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta. Musichetta, as expected, seems delighted by Cosette, and Cosette equally so by Musichetta. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Before long, Enjolras is also at Grantaire’s door. There’s a moment where they both just stare at each other, and then they both begin to speak at once. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Listen, R, I -” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Enjolras -” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>There’s a pause, and then Enjolras speaks. “You first.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Right..” Grantaire looks uncomfortable for a moment, squeezes one hand into a fist and then loosens it again. “Right. Uh - I just wanted to apologize. I wasn’t exactly ready to explain, and -” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“No, I should have just listened in the first place,” Enjolras shakes his head. “I’m sorry too.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“So.. friends?” Grantaire asks, daring to hope. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Friends,” Enjolras agrees, looking relieved. “I hate it when we fight,” he confesses. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“We fight constantly,” Grantaire points out. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Yeah, but -” He looks a little uncomfortable at the reminder. “It’s not always so bad, is it? I mean - we disagree, but we’ve usually been able to get past it faster.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire thinks about the specific methods they’d been using to get past it, as Enjolras had put it. “I suppose. We probably shouldn’t..” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enjolras looks the slightest bit disappointed. Grantaire supposes that’s fair; the sex really had been very good, even if it had been very bad for them as friends, in the end. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose not,” Enjolras agrees anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s like you said when you thought Jehan and I were - well, anyway. It just makes things messy, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Yeah.” Enjolras nods once. “Um. I brought a pie?” He holds out a pie in a glass pie tin. He must have made it himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks. It smells amazing.” Grantaire brings it to the kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before long, the rest have arrived; Bahorel and Jehan, and Eponine and Gavroche. They sit down to eat, and for a little while it’s just the sounds of eating and compliments to the chef. Grantaire tries to deflect onto the help he’d had from Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta, but they insist he did all the real work. They just helped chop and motivate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Combeferre suggests that they include Feuilly, next time; apparently, he’s going to be the head animator for their project, and a personal friend of his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, Bahorel’s roommate?” Grantaire knows Feuilly. Bahorel has been pining after him for literal years. Grantaire has been ready to knock their stupid heads together, but now there’s Jehan, and he doesn’t really know what’s up with that whole situation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, Feuilly’s the animator on this? He never said shit,” Bahorel announces. He looks mildly put out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lunch goes well. Some people linger afterwards, including Enjolras, until it’s just Grantaire, Enjolras, and a concerned-looking Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta, hovering nearby. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright, I - we should probably talk anyway,” Grantaire tells them quietly, and they leave, but promise to call in an hour to make sure Grantaire is still alive and well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really like the animation?” Enjolras asks, once they’re alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you?” Grantaire asks with a small frown. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I do! I love Feuilly’s work,” Enjolras hurries to assure him. “I admire him, and I think he’s going to do a phenomenal job of translating your unique art style to the screen. I think he already has, from what we’ve seen.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, he’s pretty great,” Grantaire agrees. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s said he’d like to meet with you,” Enjolras admits. “I - well, I wanted you to see some of the work first, get your first thoughts. He thought that was weird, but I didn’t know you already know each other.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Worried I’d scare him off?” Grantaire jokes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A little,” Enjolras admits. “But I should have known better. You get along with pretty much everyone, it seems like.” Except for me, goes unsaid, and they both know it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, I get it, I can be a lot to deal with,” Grantaire admits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! I mean.” Enjolras turns a little red, and he shrugs. “I don’t know why we clash so badly,” he admits. “I want us to be friends. I’ve really enjoyed a lot of the time we spend together. Even when we fight, it’s - I’m so used to people agreeing with me, I surround myself with people who think similarly. It’s important to be challenged, sometimes, I think.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like hanging out with you too,” Grantaire assures him. They’ve come a long way from where they started; he thinks of that early coffee at McDonalds, losing track of time as they talk, and he thinks of all the ways they’ve fallen apart since then. He knows Enjolras better now, is the thing, and he thinks Enjolras knows him. Despite how much some of this has sucked, he thinks maybe it’s all worth it. It’s an unusually optimistic attitude for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They wind up talking late into the night, and they fall asleep on the couch together to Batman: The Animated Series, Enjolras’ choice. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Things are easier again, after that. Enjolras and Grantaire bicker, but it’s more easy-going again. Sometimes Jehan or Combeferre need to mediate, but their fights don’t get so personal anymore, and Grantaire finds he’s starting to enjoy them. They exchange long-winded emails, and Grantaire starts citing his sources. Enjolras actually looks them up and reads them, to Grantaire’s astonishment, and starts refuting them with sources of his own. It’s fun, to his surprise, to meet someone who actually wants to debate this topic with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He meets with Feuilly, too. He takes Feuilly out for a drink, and they talk for ages, about everything except Bahorel and Jehan - every time Grantaire tries to bring it up, Feuilly is quick (and sneaky), and changes the topic. Grantaire isn’t going to meddle. Meddling would be bad, it’s not his business, and Bahorel is an idiot. But Feuilly is also his friend, even if they’re both better friends with Bahorel than each other, and Grantaire hopes it resolves itself well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One drink turns into a weekly drink, ostensibly for work, but rarely do they stay on topic - or sober. Bahorel and Jehan join them sometimes. All four of them turn to fast friends, and many weeks end up with them all crowded in Jehan’s townhouse basement sharing a joint and talking about space, or dinosaurs, or aliens, or cryptids, or whatever the topic of the week is. It turns out Feuilly is something of an expert on Mothman, and Bahorel once filmed a fake Bigfoot sighting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Grantaire continues to go on shopping trips with Cosette, too, and soon Musichetta and Eponine end up joining them. From there, it becomes something of a regular thing as well, and eventually Jehan and Courfeyrac complete their little group. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s a particularly nice day, and Grantaire is thinking of going to the park and doing some people-watching with his sketchbook. He opens his door, only to find Enjolras, poised to knock, on the other side. “Oh.” Grantaire is taken aback for a moment. “Hey, uh, come on in.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, did I get you at a bad time?” Enjolras asks. “I should have called first.” He looks almost sheepish. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, it’s fine,” Grantaire assures him, “I was just going to go for a walk, nothing important.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, okay.” Enjolras steps inside, and Grantaire closes the door behind him again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what’s up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I was just thinking - today’s the one year anniversary.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of..?” Grantaire furrows his brow, hopes he hasn't forgotten anything important. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One year ago today, I went to your reading at the library and asked you to do this show with me,” Enjolras says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god, has it been a full year already? God.” Grantaire can hardly believe it, but he supposes it has been. “Jeez. That’s..” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right?” Enjolras is grinning at him though. “One year. We really did it, R.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We really did.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have some footage,” Enjolras holds up a USB stick. “They’re doing a test screening with some kids next week. I thought we could watch the pilot together first?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire’s eyes go wide. “Fuck, for real? Yeah, let’s do this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They pile onto the couch, and Enjolras plugs the USB stick into Grantaire’s laptop. The theme music is still the temporary music, as is all of the background music, but the animation and voice-acting are done. They managed to get a nonbinary teen actor for Styx, despite studio pushback, wanting a bigger name attached to it, and it’s incredible. It really is. Grantaire is all but bouncing throughout. This is it, his work come to life on screen. He turns to face Enjolras as the credits roll, and both of their names come up. He lets out a giddy little half-scream, muffled as he covers his face with a pillow. “It’s so good,” he says, grinning ear to ear. “Feuilly is a genius, we did so good.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We did.” There’s a soft look on Enjolras’ face. He’s excited too, of course, but there’s something else there, something just when he looks at Grantaire. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  
  <span>They attend the test screening with Feuilly, Jehan and Combeferre. A handful of studio execs are there, too. The kids gasp and laugh in all the right places, and their parents seem to enjoy it too. Grantaire doesn’t get to read the feedback on the forms, not yet; some research analysts from the studio will compile it all into results for them in a few days. Still, the vibe as people trickle out of the theatre is good, and it seems like people are enjoying it. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Five days later, the results are in. Most of the feedback is positive; there are a few things the execs want changed, but most of them are ones Grantaire is fine with, and the rest of the team seems to agree. With the test screening behind them, everyone is feeling good. They’ve done their best to avoid crunch - Feuilly especially feels strongly about not pushing animators beyond their limits - and the first ten episodes are ready to air in advance in full. The theme song has been playing in repeat in Grantaire’s head since he first heard it, and somehow, despite how difficult the road to get here was, they all feel like they’re sticking the landing now. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The first episode is set to air eighteen months after Grantaire and Enjolras began. Grantaire books a room in the library where it all began to host a viewing party. It’s a public event; the library is packed full of people. They end up being moved out of the room he’d booked and into a larger space, but the library is happy to accommodate. Grantaire has put a lot of time and passion into their space, after all, and he’s endeared himself to all of the staff there over the years. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gavroche is there, with some of his friends, and many familiar childrens’ faces, as well as new preteen ones, and their families. There are snacks - rice krispie treats and apples and juice boxes. Grantaire is sipping on a fruit punch juice box as he looks around the room. Enjolras is standing beside him, one arm slung over his shoulder. Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta are handing out snacks to the kids. Jehan, Bahorel and Feuilly are arm-wrestling for the one remaining adult chair; Jehan has already lost and is sitting in a tiny kid’s stool instead. Cosette and Marius are standing arm-in-arm at the back of the room, and Eponine is standing with them, looking less dour than usual. Combeferre and Courfeyrac are off to the side; Courfeyrac has taken selfies with most of the starry-eyed moms in the audience already, all with a gracious smile. His friends are all here, he muses. Old friends and new friends are mingling, and it’s incredible, really, how his little family has grown over the course of all of this. Making the show has been wonderful, of course, but in the end it’s about this, too, the wonderful people he has in his life now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The episode starts. Courfeyrac and Cosette are the ones to start singing along with the theme song first, and before long the whole creative team is singing it too. Most of the audience has never heard it, but even they join in on the chorus eventually, when they get the hang of it. Grantaire’s heart swells, and he and Enjolras exchange a look. It’s an emotional moment. Grantaire definitely isn’t crying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The episode begins in earnest. Grantaire watches in silence. The audience reactions are a blur to him; he’s absorbed by this thing he’s helped create. It’s beautiful, he has to admit it. The animation, the music, even the story he helped write. There’s something heavy in his chest that he can’t quite shake, though. This is a happy moment, a triumphant one; but as he looks around this space that has been just his for so long, he can’t help, for just a moment, missing what he had. He misses getting to make decisions on his own, misses the project being his from beginning to end. He misses getting to make something without having to appease and convince a dozen people first. He misses when he could do what he wanted without anyone else telling him how. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks at Enjolras, though, and at the rest of his friends, and the melancholy doesn't go away, not entirely, but it eases a little. The weight on his chest lifts a little, and when the ending theme plays, he’s smiling with the rest of them. They really have made something beautiful. He’s proud to have been a part of it. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Things have been going well. There’s still work to be done on the latter half of the season while episodes are airing, of course, and it keeps all of them busy, but these days Enjolras and Grantaire are bickering, rather than fighting. Enjolras seems like he’s worse off than Grantaire, which he supposes makes sense - the ball is in Enjolras’ court, now, after all. He has to do his producing thing, whatever that means. Grantaire is happy to be included in the process, of course, and he still has strong opinions about things, but he still has to admit most of the pressure is off of him now. What happens, happens, and he has enough faith in Enjolras, Combeferre, and Feuilly, that he’s not nearly as worried as he was when all of this started. He’s spent so much time with them, now, talking and working and brainstorming. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He has Jehan, too, when he’s getting overwhelmed by it, to talk him down, and Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta, who have nothing whatsoever to do with this production which seems to be taking over everyone’s lives. No, it’s not perfect, of course it isn’t, but Grantaire thinks he’s happy. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>In all the chaos, he’d been forced to pause his program at the library. That had been hard; he’s missed spending time reading to the kids. And, to that point, he’s decided it’s time to go back to making time for it. He’s not writing anymore, he has the time to spare. Conveniently, he’s choosing to host his first one back at a very specific time - the precise time that the next episode is meant to air. He’s not taking away his audience, he tells himself. The show is for older kids, and his library program is for younger ones. He’s not sabotaging his own show, he’s not stupid. Enjolras would kill him, for one, and Combeferre, for all that he’s a pacifist, would at least help Enjolras hide the body. Even worse would be Feuilly’s disappointment. He’s not planning on making this the permanent time, anyway, it’s just - well. This week’s episode is one he definitely plans to miss. And if he’s busy with the kids, he can’t be getting drunk instead of watching it, and he really is trying to be better about that. His therapist thinks he’s using alcohol as an increasingly unhealthy mechanism, and he hates that, but also thinks she’s probably right. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>So it is that Grantaire finds himself sitting on a carpet, cursing his bad knees and reading one of his old books to a gaggle of kids. There’s more of them present than usual; Grantaire would have to be blind to miss that. Book sales have been way up since the show started airing, after all, and he knows that he’s making something of a name for himself. His name is big in the title credits - it says right there that the show is based on his concept, so it’s impossible to miss even if no one is checking for the writing credit when they watch the episode. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>There must be fifty or so kids, is the point, all clamoring with questions and comments, all wanting to tell him their stories about his dragons, or their own dragons, all wanting to show him the pictures they’ve drawn. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Hey, that’s awesome,” Grantaire praises the kid showing him a pink and purple blob on a blue background which he assumes is a dragon in flight. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Her name is Pinkie,” the little girl informs him, pleased as punch to have been noticed. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“That’s a fantastic name,” Grantaire assures her. This is what he’s been missing this whole time. He’s glad to be back. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Of course, this time, as with the last, a librarian is suddenly there. “Mr. Grantaire..” she interrupts, nervous. Grantaire doesn’t recognize her; she must be new. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Just R, please..” he reads her name tag. “Lilian. What is it?” He gets to his feet and dusts himself off. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“R, then.” She smiles at him, but goes back to looking nervous. “There’s someone here for you.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>From behind her steps a now familiar face, in a now familiar suit. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Hey, Enjolras.” Grantaire tries for a smile, and doesn’t quite make it. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Grantaire.” The look on Enjolras’ face is hard to read. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>As usual, Grantaire assumes the worst. “They’re not our demographic, so if you’ve come to yell at me, well, they’re not who’s supposed to be watching anyway.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>A shadow crosses Enjolras’ face, and he frowns. “I see you’ve managed to grow your crowd even more,” he says, rather than addressing Grantaire’s accusation. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Seems that way.” Grantaire fidgets with his hands, wonders why Enjolras has come this time if not to berate him. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I went to your apartment,” Enjolras says after a few moments of awkward silence. “You weren’t home.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“No, I was here,” Grantaire replies. It’s unnecessary, obviously, seeing as he’s here, and not at home. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You didn’t tell me you were starting this again,” Enjolras gestures around the room. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Didn’t come up.” In truth, of course, he’s been putting it off; he didn’t want Enjolras to tell him no, didn’t want him to be upset and insist on changing the time. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I thought.. Never mind.” Enjolras shakes his head. His expression has been painfully neutral from the start, and that doesn't change now. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire hates it, of course. He’d thought they were doing better, but he had to go and ruin it, didn’t he? It’s not his fault, though, he tells himself. He’s allowed to do this, if he wants to. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You should have run it by the studio first,” Enjolras tells him. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“That’s precisely why I didn’t tell you,” Grantaire mutters. “Look. Now you know. I’m not sitting around spoiling the ending, or making promises I can’t keep. I’m not talking about the show at all, when I can help it.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“No, you’re just running this when the show is airing,” Enjolras frowns deeper. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Just this week,” Grantaire assures him, “Then it’ll be later in the afternoon, promise.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Right. Good.” Enjolras’ expression cracks for the first time to show relief. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire rolls his eyes. They’ve been doing so well; this is such a shame. He should have known it can’t last. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I came to see if you’d watch the episode with me. It’s meant to start in just a few minutes.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Enjolras.” Grantaire clenches a fist at his side, and releases it again. He’s avoided anything to do with this episode; hasn’t seen a single frame of its animation, hasn’t heard a word of its plot. It can’t have slipped Enjolras’ notice. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I know you’ve been avoiding it. I’m not blind. I just - hoped you’d watch it with me.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire closes his eyes, breathes slow, counts to ten. “No. I’d rather not. And in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m pretty busy. So. You should probably just go.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Enjolras’ shoulders slump, and his frown settles into something sad. “Fine. If that’s what you want.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Yeah.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Enjolras hesitates. He doesn’t pull Grantaire in for a hug, which is something they do now. He just claps a hand on Grantaire’s arm, looks at him for a long moment, and then turns and leaves. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire goes back to the kids. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>The thing is, he’s intrigued despite himself now. Enjolras came all the way to track him down at the library to get him to watch this episode. He knows he’s going to hate it, and he doesn’t want to watch. He doesn’t want to give any of these kids, or their parents, the idea that he doesn’t like the show. He doesn’t want them to see his reaction to this one episode and think he hates it all. But.. doesn’t refusing to watch it give a strange impression too? He’s overthinking this, probably, but all the same, he finds a librarian and asks if they can have one of the televisions wheeled in to watch. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The kids gathered around, chattering in excitement. Grantaire stands and mutes the television, and clears his throat. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Hm. So. This episode..” he doesn’t know the first thing about it. He has no idea what to say. He feels vaguely sick. “Not every moment of life is about driving a plot forward,” he begins. “And.. not every episode of a tv show is, either. This probably won’t go down as the most significant episode of the show ever to air, but - every episode is important, in its own way. I’m very proud to have been a part of a wonderful team, and I’m so, so passionate about this project. I just hope you all enjoy.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>There is some applause, about as much as a silly little announcement like that deserves, and then he sits down, and the episode begins in earnest. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Everyone is doing a puzzle. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“It’s easy!” says a minor character. Styx struggles. They tease Styx for struggling, say it’s not a big deal, and Styx continues to struggle. There are no high stakes, there is nothing on the line. Styx struggles with something everyone else says is easy, and it hurts, and that’s okay. Styx is good at other things, and those things are valuable too. It’s.. perfect. It’s not at all what he had expected. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire remembers fighting with Enjolras over this - how could he forget? It had been one of their worst. And they’d ended it without much resolution, and not talked about it since, which, on reflection, might have been a mistake. Grantaire had assumed that Enjolras would just move ahead with what he thought was best, but - he hadn’t. He looks around, but Enjolras is long gone. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He wants to call Enjolras, demand answers. He wants to know what happened, why this episode is the way it is. He has 50 kids and their parents waiting on him, and half an hour left of this program. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Well! That was fun.” He rallies, and puts on a smile. It might not be a very good one, but it’s enough to convince a room full of kids, at last. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Half an hour isn’t a very long time. Not in the grand scheme of things. This particular half hour, though, it drags on and on. Even when it’s done, there are stragglers, people who want to talk to him once more. There’s clean-up to do, he has to gather the books and put them on a cart; he has to gather his own things, the dropped crayons and construction paper. He stays to help put away tables and chairs, because he always does, and he’s not going to start abandoning that task to the library assistants just because he’s got a popular television show, now. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>It’s an hour and a half since the episode ended before he gets home. He can call Enjolras now, but he hesitates. Suddenly he doesn’t know what he wants to say to Enjolras. Thank you? He should probably say thank you. If you were willing to make this episode, why did you fight me so hard in the first place? Probably rude, but a question Grantaire wants the answer to. He wonders what would have happened, if they hadn’t had that fight. Would they still be bickering and then having angry make-up sex? Would it have turned into something more? Would they have just exploded about something else anyway? </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>What-ifs don’t matter, and he knows it, but he’s never been good at sticking to what matters. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He closes his eyes, clenches his fist, and calls Enjolras. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“Grantaire?” Enjolras sounds surprised, but also not, like he’s been waiting, but not expecting a call. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Hey.” Grantaire’s voice is hoarse. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Are you alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I - yeah. Yeah, I’m - I watched the episode.” Grantaire should have written something down. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I wasn’t sure if you would. But I hoped..” Enjolras trails off. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Yeah, I uh. I can see why. I mean, why you wanted me to watch it. I - Enjolras, what?” Grantaire isn’t making much sense to himself, but he hopes Enjolras can follow. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>It seems Enjolras can. “I still can’t say I understand, but - you said it should be enough that it’s important, and, well. You were right. We had that awful fight, and for so long I didn’t understand why, and I still don’t, entirely, but I looked back, and - from the start, you were surprisingly good at compromise. I mean, we fought, but you always backed what we landed on, and we always managed to find a middle ground. So.. I knew it had to be important, if you were really refusing to compromise on this one.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“It was - it is.” Grantaire doesn’t know what to say. “I - thank you.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I’m sorry I was so pig-headed about it in the first place,” Enjolras says. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I probably didn’t give you much of a reason to listen,” Grantaire admits in turn. “It’s - I didn’t want to explain, but I should have.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You don’t have to.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I..” Grantaire pauses. He didn’t want to, at the time. Part of him does, now. “There were a lot of things, that I struggled with. As a kid, as a teenager, hell, I still do. Math - totally beyond me. And not in the way most people say they can’t do math, for the record. I literally just can’t look at numbers and make them make sense. Joly says it’s a thing, like dyslexia, but numbers instead of letters. Didn’t know that at the time, of course.” He bites his lip. “Wasn’t just that, though. Sometimes things are easier, sometimes they’re harder, but - all I knew as a kid was that everyone else seemed to breeze through this stuff, and I didn’t. And it sucked. We all have stuff we’re not good at, but it was - isolating.” His therapist will be proud of him for talking about this. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“There were no lives at stake,” Enjolras says, like he’s starting to understand. “It wasn’t always the end of the world. But it still felt like a big deal to you.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Yeah.” All the air leaves Grantaire’s lungs in that one syllable. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I should have-” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You couldn’t have understood,” Grantaire waves him off, though Enjolras can’t see him. “I refused to say anything, refused to explain. You’re many things, Enjolras but not a mind reader.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“But we’d talked about it before,” Enjolras points out. “Not so directly, but - after your first breakdown. Back in the planning stages. You talked about struggling, and we found ways to work around it, and I just - didn’t carry that into anything else.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Stop beating yourself up,” Grantaire says firmly. “It’s - I suck at communicating, and you aren’t perfect. It’s okay. And - you came through. That matters. It means a lot, that you did this episode my way even without understanding it.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Enjolras sighs on the other end of the phone. “We keep doing things wrong,” he says softly. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire comes to a realization. He’s said it out loud already, but it really hits him, finally - Enjolras is human. He isn’t perfect. He makes mistakes, and he’s fallible, and of course he’s known that, they fight often enough that of course he knows that, but he’s still been holding Enjolras up to a standard Enjolras himself projects. Enjolras, in his pressed suits and perfect hair and his strong grip on his reactions and emotions, who seems so put together, but - Enjolras isn’t perfect, Enjolras doesn’t always have it all together. He’s trying, and sometimes he’s failing, and that.. That’s enough. That’s better, maybe. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“We’re trying,” is what Grantaire says out loud. “That’s got to be worth something.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Yeah.” That seems to cheer Enjolras up a little. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>There’s a crash in the background, and Enjolras swears. “Robi, no -” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Go, deal with your crazy cat,” Grantaire laughs. “We’re - good. We’re good. I just wanted to say thank you.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He got to say a lot more than that. Enjolras says a hasty goodbye and chases after his cat, and Grantaire stares at his phone for a few minutes after they hang up. He’s been infatuated with Enjolras from day one, and he’s always been aware of that, painfully so. He’s attracted to Enjolras - their brief fling, or whatever that had been, proved that. But now.. He knows Enjolras. He likes Enjolras. Enjolras, who made this episode for him, who reached out, who has a ridiculous cat, and is surprisingly good with kids, and has a dry sense of humour when he cares to show it. Enjolras, who holds himself to an impossible standard and is trying so damn hard.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire is in love with Enjolras. Grantaire is royally, truly fucked. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Despite Grantaire’s assumption that his new revelation would be a big deal, it’s surprisingly.. not. He’s in love with Enjolras, and he’s working with him, and Enjolras is very busy producing a television show, and Grantaire is going back to doing events at the library. He’s hanging out with Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta more often again, and they’re all very sympathetic about his plight, but functionally, not much changes between Grantaire and Enjolras. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The show is also coming to an end. The season is wrapping up; there are only a few weeks left to go. Grantaire has set all of his social media to private, because apparently the show has gained something of a following. Several of his friends gain followers just by proxy. Bahorel revels in it, stirring shit up on purpose. It’s harmless, but Enjolras has nearly had three aneurysms about it, so Grantaire has promised to try to make him stop. Feuilly made no such promises, and neither did Jehan, because somewhere along the line they both started dating Bahorel, and they are traitors who think it’s hilarious. Enjolras, of course, can’t be angry at Feuilly, and Jehan, well - no one ever really believes anyone can tell Jehan what to do. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“We should have a party,” Bahorel says as Grantaire ducks to dodge a fist. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Long as you’re hosting.” Grantaire swings back, but it glances off. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“It’s the season finale! You made it through, all of you deserve a party. Also, it means I’ll finally actually see everyone again, because you’ve all gone and gotten busy,” Bahorel accuses. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You are probably the one of us with the most friends outside of all this,” Grantaire points out, before Bahorel finally manages to lay him out on his back. “Fuck.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You gotta watch your left side, dude.” Bahorel helps him up. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Fuck off,” Grantaire says affectionately, and punches Bahorel in the shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Anyway, Jehan’s already sent out the invitations on your behalf,” Bahorel tells him. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire groans. “Jehan lives in an actual goddamn house, why aren’t they hosting?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Only half of the house is theirs, it’s a townhouse,” Bahorel reminds him. “And their neighbours made a noise complaint too recently, same with Feuilly, and me, to risk hosting a party so soon.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You all need to invest in some better soundproofing in your bedrooms,” Grantaire mutters. “Fucking christ. Fine. But if I’m hosting, and you three sleep over, you’re sleeping in separate rooms, so help me god. I still haven’t managed to bleach my brain from the last time I came over - invited, mind you! - and got an eyeful.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, we have to preserve your delicate sensibilities,” Bahorel laughs, and claps Grantaire on the back so hard his knees might buckle. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Fuck you.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“In your dreams,” Bahorel replies cheerfully. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire groans again, and wanders off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>He does end up hosting the party. He isn’t given much of a choice, especially when Courfeyrac gets wind of it. Courfeyrac is between projects, which is a dangerous state for him to be in, because it means he’s free to get up to mischief. This week, that means taking over party planning, apparently. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Party’s in the middle of the day, Courfeyrac,” Grantaire reminds him for the third time. “Because, you know, that’s when the show airs.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“A little day drinking at a finale party never hurt anyone,” Courfeyrac assures him. He is currently bouncing around Grantaire’s apartment, planning for decorations, or something. “C’mon, we’re going shopping.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire likes Courfeyrac. He’s a riot, and also a genuinely good guy, once you get past the persona. Courfeyrac is also, however, a hurricane on legs, and Grantaire had figured this party wouldn’t take much planning. He’d order some pizza, put the show on, maybe play some music afterwards, serve mimosas, or something else mid-morning appropriate. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire and Courfeyrac go shopping, of course, because it’s impossible to say no to Courfeyrac when he has his heart set on something. Apparently, he texted Cosette, too, because she’s there at the mall to meet them. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Shouldn’t you like, wear sunglasses or something?” Grantaire asks Courfeyrac, who is by far the most famous of his new friends. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“If people recognize me, they’ll recognize me,” Courfeyrac shrugs, and greets Cosette with a hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, darlings,” Cosette moves on to greet Grantaire, and of course he hugs her too. “I hear there’s a party to plan.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Most of the parties Grantaire has hosted have been, well, not the sort of thing you do much planning for.  A couple bottles of cheap alcohol, a speaker, and a spotify playlist. That’s what Grantaire is used to needing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Those are all things they’ll end up needing for this, too, of course, but that is certainly not all. Courfeyrac and Cosette put their heads together, debating over banners and ribbons and all sorts of things that Grantaire mostly sort of tunes out - that is, until they turn on him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you! You,” Cosette has a glimmer in her eye. “You are going to be all my brother can look at, I promise.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wh-what? Uh.” Grantaire freezes, eyes wide. “It’s not - we’re not-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please,” Courfeyrac rolls his eyes at Grantaire, grinning just as wide as Cosette. “You two have been driving all of us completely up every wall since you stopped fucking, and some of us for even longer than that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Grantaire repeats, turning bright red. “We - we haven’t-” He hadn’t thought anyone knew about that. How does Courfeyrac know? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m his best friend,” Courfeyrac says, an almost pitying look in his eye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I’m his twin sister,” Cosette adds. She’s kinder about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If Enjolras is going to tell anyone about the guy he’s boinking twice a week, it’s us.” Courfeyrac puts a hand on Grantaire’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire’s face twists, and he’s so offended by the word ‘boinking’ that he’s almost able to let the rest of it go. “It wasn’t like that,” he insists again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You two are the worst,” Cosette informs Grantaire. “Tiptoeing around each other when all you really need is a good long conversation. Now. Do you, or do you not, want to have the perfect outfit, so that we can all stop having to wade through the sexual tension?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire scowls, but, well. He tells himself he’s helpless in the face of both Cosette and Courfeyrac, and lets them whirl him away to find the supposed perfect outfit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s 8pm the day before the finale episode will air, and Grantaire barely recognizes his own apartment. It looks good, he has to admit. Courfeyrac helped with the cleaning, while Cosette prepared some finger foods to be heated up right before the party. His apartment is practically immaculate - it has Grantaire tiptoeing around the place, worried he’ll mess something up. Everyone has gone home, though, finally leaving Grantaire to his own thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s been incredible, he muses as he goes through the motions for the evening. He catches up with his show on Netflix, has a beer and makes sure the can gets put away properly. He plays a silly game inspired by candy crush on his phone and watches the little monster characters cheer him on. He decides, spur of the moment, to make everyone a little party favour, and spends the next several hours drawing each of them as their own dragon, on proper paper and everything. The last thing he does is to draw them all in a group, and that one he pins on his own wall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not that he thinks he’ll never see them again after this, but it is the finale. They’ll have less reason to all be hanging out, and when everyone gets busy with a new project, they won’t be busy together. It’s a melancholy thing; Grantaire will be glad to have the stress of it all over, of course. He has a few ideas for new books, and some sketches for them started. He and Jehan have even been talking about collaborating on a new project, too - Jehan has always loved poetry, but has never published their own. They asked Grantaire if he’d do some illustrations for the book, which of course Grantaire eagerly agreed to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jehan and Feuilly are in his life to stay. Not just, he knows, because they’re dating one of his best friends, but because they’ve all become better friends in the meantime, and he has to believe they won’t just disappear on him. He genuinely doesn’t know about the rest right now, though. He likes to think he’s made real friends with all of them, but he’s seen how easily people he thinks are friends drift apart when they don’t have to hang out all the time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire looks at the picture on his wall. He hadn’t included himself in it; he never does, really. He pulls it down again, and stubbornly puts pen to paper once more. He puts himself in the background, but he makes sure he’s included. It can be a reminder, he figures, that he should keep trying. That he is, in fact, part of the group he’s managed to collect, and not just on the periphery. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He puts the picture back up, sets an alarm, changes into pyjamas, and climbs into bed. He has a big day tomorrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The party is in full swing. It’s a little bizarre, having a party in the middle of the day, but there’s punch, and music, and Cosette’s food is perfection itself, so it’s easy enough to just forget that and have a good time. The show is scheduled to start in half an hour, and Enjolras is the only one yet to arrive. Grantaire is having a surprisingly good time; he’s already danced with Cosette, and it turns out Combeferre knows how to do a very respectable waltz. Courfeyrac, who apparently did some ballroom for some movie or other, does a tango to the only tolerable song from Rent with Grantaire, before sweeping Jehan up in some interpretive dance routine they’re making up on the spot. Grantaire empties his punch cup, and thinks he can’t remember the last time he had so much fun. There’s just the small downside that Enjolras isn’t there yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Combeferre appears at his elbow just as he’s looking at the door for the millionth time. “He’ll arrive soon enough. I know he won’t miss this,” he promises. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire smiles at him. “I know,” he assures Combeferre. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want him here sooner than later.” It’s an admission he should find embarrassing, especially in front of someone as put-together as Combeferre, but Combeferre would only judge him if he really, really deserved it, so Grantaire isn’t too worried about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It really isn’t long before the door opens once more. Enjolras is carrying an absurd number of flowers, and this must be what held him up. Grantaire watches Enjolras move about the room; he has something specific for everyone, he notes. Not just generic roses. Combeferre gets lilies; Jehan gets orchids. Feuilly’s are hydrangea. By the time Enjolras reaches Grantaire, he’s only holding one bouquet. Sweetpea flowers, Grantaire thinks, in all sorts of colours. “They’re beautiful. Thank you,” he says as he accepts them carefully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enjolras smiles at him, and it’s enough to send Grantaire’s heart rate through the ceiling, so he makes a quick escape, announcing that he’s tracking down cups and vases for people to put their flowers in. He doesn’t notice Enjolras watching him, too set on his task. Every so often for the rest of the moments before the show starts, though, Grantaire finds himself glancing towards his flowers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, that isn’t very long at all. Before long, they’re all squished onto Grantaire’s couch, Jehan electing to sit on Bahorel’s lap, and Bahorel electing to sit on the floor, Feuilly at his side. Eponine and Gavroche are on a pile of pillows and blankets, also on the floor. Cosette pulls Marius onto her own lap, and Courfeyrac perches himself on top of Combeferre with a cheeky grin. Bossuet, Joly, and Musichetta are a dogpile on Grantaire’s lounge chair, and there is just enough space left on the couch for maybe one more. “You go ahead -” Grantaire gestures to Enjolras, who rolls his eyes and sits, but not before pulling Grantaire on top of him, too. Grantaire blushes hard and shuts his mouth, glaring briefly at Jehan, who is looking over their shoulder at him and wiggling their eyebrows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The episode is emotional for all of them, even the people who haven’t been as directly involved. It feels right, somehow, for it to end this way. End isn’t maybe the right word though, Grantaire thinks as he looks around. Joly sniffles at the ending, and all of them are looking a bit teary-eyed. It feels less like an ending, and more like a beginning; Grantaire’s fears aren’t going anywhere so easily, of course, but in this moment, he feels surer than he has about much that this particular little family of theirs isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The credits end, and the commercials come on, and Jehan is the first one up to their feet, turning the television off. “Now that’s how you make a tv show,” they announce, and just like that, the mood is lighter again. Courfeyrac wolf whistles, and Cosette cheers. Enjolras stands up, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve accomplished something incredible here,” he says, tapping his plastic solo cup like he’s making a serious toast. Grantaire loves him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so proud of each and every person who was involved in this undertaking. Combeferre, you’re the best director I could have asked for. I’d be lost without you at my side every day. Feuilly, the animation in this was stunning, and you’re truly an inspiration. No one could have done what you’ve accomplished here, and without any need for crunch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hear hear!” someone shouts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jehan, of course,” Enjolras continues. “Your creativity and expertise has been invaluable, and your unique way of seeing the world is just one of the many things I love about you. And of course… Grantaire. R, none of us would be in this room right now, with the experiences and relationships we’ve made without you, and your drive, and your vision. I know you’ve had doubts, and worries, but truly, you are the heart and soul of this whole project, and it shows. I’m so proud that we got to do this together, and I genuinely can’t wait to see where life takes you next.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire is blushing, and he gets a standing ovation that just makes him want to disappear into the floor. Enjolras’ speech was painfully sincere, and Grantaire doesn’t know where to even start with that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve forgotten someone very important,” he says, instead of trying to react to any of that. “None of us would be here without you, Enjolras. You came into my life and upended it entirely with your crazy, impossible ideas. You’ve been the driving force behind all of it, when I could never have done anything like this myself.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enjolras also gets a standing ovation, and Grantaire can see that he’s pleased, even if he’s trying to play it off as nothing. Grantaire leaves Enjolras to the praise of their friends, escaping to his fire escape balcony. He walks down the steps a little ways, and lights a cigarette, lost in thought. He’s thinking about the future - what comes next? Does he just go back to writing his books? A big part of him would be happy about that - relieved, even. This has been incredible, of course it has, but it was also a lot. He knows he’s going to miss it, though, a little. It was chaotic, and at times it was downright awful, but he thinks he wouldn’t change it for anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s so distracted that he barely notices when the door slides open and shut. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, this is Enjolras.. Mhmm.. Thank you, sir. Yes.” There’s a longer pause, and then Enjolras’ tone changes, obviously he’s holding something back. “Yes, thank you very much, that’s - very good to hear. Thank you.” He hangs up with a click, and then there’s a celebratory shout. “Woo!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enjolras?” Grantaire puts out his cigarette and stands up, walking back to the balcony. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Grantaire!” Enjolras is grinning ear to ear. “R, I didn’t realize you were out here. You’ll never believe who that was.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“..Judging by the look on your face, it must have been Santa Claus himself, telling you he’s granting you your wish for world peace after all,” Grantaire teases with a half-smile on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enjolras wrinkles his nose at Grantaire, and it’s fucking adorable. “No. But close - it was Mr. Valjean, he says we’ve been approved for renewal.” Enjolras is clearly giddy with the news. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire is thrown, mostly. He’d assumed, since they hadn’t heard anything, that this was going to be it. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Two more seasons, fifty episodes each,” Enjolras is practically glowing. “And they’re doing a merch line - with non-gender-segregated marketing, can you believe it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t, actually. It’s surreal. Enjolras finally notices that Grantaire isn’t quite as giddy about it as he is, though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“R..?” he asks, cautious, and Grantaire hates himself a little for how it makes Enjolras’ excitement dim. “This.. it’s good news, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I - yeah. Yeah, of course.” Grantaire shakes himself. He’d been so sure his life would go back to - not normal, necessarily, or not normal as it was before Dragon Tales, but something like it. He tries to imagine what the toys will look like. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enjolras clearly isn’t convinced. “Look at what we’ve made,” he says earnestly. “We’ve done what you wanted to do, we’ve reached kids across the country, and they liked it enough that we get to do even more.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I - I know.” Grantaire does know. “It’s just - god, this was so much, you know? And - I’m happy. I am. We’re making a good thing, I believe that. It’s just - this year was so goddamn hard, Enjolras,” he admits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enjolras’ expression softens, and he reaches out, hands on Grantaire’s arms. “It was,” he agrees. “But it was worth it - wasn’t it? All of it?” He seems like he’s asking more than just that, but maybe that’s also just Grantaire projecting. He wants Enjolras to be asking him if it was worth it, and he wants Enjolras to mean more than the show, because Grantaire is thinking about their kiss, that first time, and how they pretended it didn’t happen. Grantaire is thinking about the long fights and the nights that followed, Enjolras mouth and hands on him, his own hands on Enjolras in return. He’s thinking, too, about the softer moments, the conversations late into the night, and the photos of dogs he took on the street to send to Enjolras later. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Grantaire says, after a pause that’s far, far too long. “It was.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re both standing there, on a fire escape balcony in the middle of the afternoon, staring at each other. Grantaire isn’t sure which of them breaks first, but before he knows it, Enjolras is kissing him. It’s nothing like the kisses they’ve shared before; so many of those were angry, and when they weren’t angry they were drunk. Now, they’re sober, and they’re happy, and - and Grantaire can’t do this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wrenches himself away, as much as he doesn’t want to. “I can’t,” he says, and it comes out as a whisper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enjolras crumples. His shoulders fall, and his expression goes flat. His fists clench, and then release. “..Right. My mistake.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enjolras is heading for the door, and Grantaire is talking again before he can stop himself. “It was fine, you know, when we were sleeping together and it didn’t mean anything, that was fine, because I had a stupid crush or whatever but it wasn’t like, serious, but dammit it’s - things have changed, it’s not just a stupid crush anymore, I think I’m really, actually in love with you, and I can’t do casual, I just can’t, I’m sorry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enjolras clearly wants to leave several times throughout that speech, but by the time Grantaire has stopped rambling, and has instead frozen in panic, for having said any of it at all, he has whirled around to stare at Grantaire. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You love me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh……” Grantaire draws it out, and wonders if maybe the fire escape floor could give out beneath him. “..Yes? Sorry. I’m sorry, I know it’s not -” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up.” Enjolras steps closer again, and Grantaire’s eyes go wide. Enjolras kisses him again. “I love you too. Go out with me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire is reeling. “You - wait. What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you too,” Enjolras repeats himself, the image of patience itself. “Go out with me.” He seems to realize that might be rude. “Please,” he adds as an afterthought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire’s head is spinning. “Yes,” he says anyway, because apparently dreams are coming true today. “Yes. Fuck, of course.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enjolras beams at him, and they’re kissing again. This time, Grantaire manages to actually contribute to the kissing. He’s actually a good kisser, thank you very much, now that he’s present enough mentally to participate properly, and he’d like the opportunity to prove it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enjolras makes the most incredible sound, but he pulls back, slowly, as if he doesn’t want to. Grantaire is still reeling, a little. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to take you on a proper date,” Enjolras says firmly. “Before we go any further.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if Grantaire needs to be wined and dined. He says as much, but Enjolras shakes his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You just said you don’t want to do casual. And neither do I. So, a date. A proper one. So I can prove I’m serious about this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire shakes his head at Enjolras, but it’s fond. “Alright,” he agrees. “A date first, then, as absurd as that is, you silly, silly man.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve done this all backwards,” Enjolras admits. “But - that just makes it more important. Makes </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>more important. I want to try to get it right, this time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire kisses Enjolras again, because he really doesn’t know what to say to that, and they go back to the party. On the way, Enjolras looks him up and down. “By the way, are those new jeans?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire is going to have to buy Courfeyrac and Cosette the nicest thank you presents. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It’s been a long time since Grantaire went on a date. Dating is a thing for high schoolers, he always figured, and for conventionally attractive people, but he hasn’t been on a date in ages. He also has no idea what Enjolras is planning. Enjolras refuses to tell him where they’re going. It could be something crazy fancy - some restaurant you need reservations for months in advance that he got in with by having a celebrity friend ask, or a black tie event of some sort, or - he doesn’t know, but he’s worried. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Enjolras won’t do that,” Jehan says, and they are truly the patron deity of patience, because Grantaire has been pacing in front of his wardrobe trying to figure out what to wear and whining about how worried he is for a while now. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“But what if he does?” Grantaire frets. “He said he was trying to prove he’s serious, or something stupid like that, what if he thinks that means he has to-” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Enjolras is not well known for his social intelligence, bless him,” Jehan says, “But he does know you better than that. Relax.” They look at Grantaire’s wardrobe with a critical eye. “You need more patterns, and brighter colours,” they add. “Green looks lovely on you, don’t get me wrong, but you could stand to change it up a little.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire stands still for the first time to look properly at Jehan. Jehan is wearing a floral peasant top three sizes too big, which hangs over a brightly-coloured, eye-spot-inducing skirt, and striped knee-high socks. He doesn’t think he’s going to be taking their advice, though somehow they manage to pull it off, which just isn’t fair. “I’ll keep it in mind,” he says, and pulls a green flannel shirt from his closet to go with the jeans Enjolras had liked from the party. Nice enough to wear most places, casual enough to work everywhere else. He takes a deep breath, and gets dressed, and then lets Jehan put a little bit of eyeliner on, because, well, why not? </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“It brings out your eyes,” Jehan says, and puts the eyeliner away again. “You look good. And Enjolras is due in..” they glance at their watch, an antique of some sort. “About fifteen minutes. How are you feeling?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Terrified. Excited. It doesn’t seem real,” Grantaire says. His stomach does a backflip as he thinks about it. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I’m happy for you both,” Jehan says, and drapes themself over Grantaire’s shoulders when Grantaire sits on the edge of his bed, trying not to fidget with his hair anymore. “It’s the stuff of epics, the ups and downs you two have had. The miscommunications are worthy of the trashiest of romantic comedies.” They sigh wistfully. “I’m going to dedicate my book to you - you two and your drama managed to inspire at least a few of them.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire doesn’t know how to feel about that. He settles for vaguely flattered and slightly offended, but he has to admit it’s true - the bit about trashy romcoms and misunderstandings, anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Jehan stands. “Well, I will not be here when your true love arrives,” they announce, and head for the door. Grantaire walks them out. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Thanks for coming over to help,” he says. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Jehan kisses him on the cheek. “Tell Enjolras I’ll feed Robi tonight, so he doesn’t have to worry about coming home.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire blushes. “Get out of here,” he shoos Jehan out, and closes the door behind them again. He has five minutes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Enjolras is three and a half minutes early. Grantaire rushes to answer the door. “Hey,” he says, as if that isn’t the most boring greeting possible. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Hey,” Enjolras says back, and smiles. “You look really good.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Thanks.” Grantaire blushes. Enjolras looks good too - he’s without his usual suit today, wearing a red jacket over a button-up and jeans. His hair is up, and Grantaire is struck by the desire to pull it down again and run his fingers through it. “You look pretty good yourself.” It’s the understatement of the century. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Thanks.” Enjolras offers a hand. “Are you ready to go?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Would be if I knew where we’re going,” Grantaire says, and he hopes it comes out more teasing and less nervous. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You’ll see,” Enjolras promises. “But I think you’ll like it. Don’t worry.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He’s less nervous than he was already, seeing Enjolras dressed down, ready for a date, rather than work, he supposes. “I trust you,” he says, and is surprised to find that it’s true, though that also makes him nervous. There’s really no winning. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He steps into Enjolras’ car. The radio is playing top fourty hits, which is something Grantaire is thrilled to discover, and which Enjolras looks vaguely defiant about. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>They arrive at a parking lot, which is sort of anticlimactic. “We’ll have to walk a little,” Enjolras says apologetically. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“All good,” Grantaire assures him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enjolras leads the way. He reaches out and takes Grantaire’s hand while they walk, loose enough that Grantaire could escape if he wanted to. He doesn’t want to, of course, so he holds on a little tighter. Enjolras squeezes, and Grantaire smiles. They walk through a nice part of town, past an artisanal chocolate shop and some art shops and some middle-nice-restaurants, the sort that normal people go to for a nice meal out, with twenty dollar entrees, but nothing absurdly expensive. They arrive, though, outside a small theatre, one Grantaire hasn’t been to before - one he doesn’t think he’s even heard of. It’s the words on the marquis, though, that surprise him the most. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Neverending Story?” he reads out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said once it’s your favourite book,” Enjolras explains, blushing slightly. “And - I mean, your copy, at your place, it’s probably the most beat-up book on your shelf. So when I found out there was going to be a stage production, I thought of you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s perfect. Grantaire is wide-eyed. He’s loved this book since he was a kid, and he loves it now. “This is incredible.” He doesn’t know anything about the production, but he’s eager, now, to get inside. The first thing he sees, of course, is the novelty shop, which he promptly drags Enjolras into. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooooh, look at this!” He holds up a plushie of the luck dragon, Falkor. A moment later, he’s holding up a special edition of the book, and then a stage book, and before long he has armfuls of merch and a sheepish grin. He can’t afford any of it, of course, but the hardest thing to let go is the Falkor plushie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can see where your love of dragons came from,” Enjolras observes, and buys the dragon, despite Grantaire’s protests. When Grantaire disappears to find a bathroom, he buys the stage book, too, planning to hold onto it for a rainy day gift, maybe something to cheer him up in a depressive episode, or just a birthday gift. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire returns, and they go to find their seats. The show itself is magical. The puppetry and lighting and special effects are spectacular, but there’s a nostalgia to it, too, that goes beyond showmanship, and Grantaire loves every second of it. He laughs, he cries, and when it’s over, he’s a sniffling, overwhelmed, happy mess. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You,” he points at Enjolras. “Thank you. This was.. I can’t tell you how much I loved this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enjolras knows him, and this was the proof. No, Enjolras didn’t produce this play just for him, but he knew enough to take Grantaire here, Enjolras can’t be given all the credit for this, but he’s happy. This was perfect. He presses a kiss to the corner of Enjolras’ lips. Enjolras is smiling wide, and he pulls Grantaire in for a brief kiss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They end up in a nearby cafe, with fancy lattes and multiple dairy-free milk options, and fancy pastries, all for an extravagant price. Grantaire gets a black coffee, and Enjolras gets something that Grantaire tastes, and deems sickeningly sweet. They share a dessert, too, while Grantaire talks about the show. He talks about the luck dragon puppet for a full ten minutes, and stops only when he registers that Enjolras is looking at him with the oddest expression and a small smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” he says, realizing how long he’s been talking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please don’t be,” Enjolras says, and he clearly means it. “I’m so glad you enjoyed it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was incredible,” he says, and fidgets with his now-empty coffee cup. “This was incredible, Enjolras, I had a wonderful time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me too,” Enjolras replies. “It was incredible to see you so passionate. And the show itself was spectacular.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire grins. “It was. But now the real question is - you’ve taken me on a real date. I’m thoroughly convinced that you’re serious, because seriously, you know me so well. This was perfect. Does that mean we’ve satisfied your requirements for if and when we can do more than kiss?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course it’s okay if Enjolras wants to take this slow, but Grantaire would very much like to show Enjolras with his tongue how much he enjoyed himself on this date. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enjolras rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “Yes, I think we have.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The walk back to the car feels like it takes forever, and traffic seems like an impossible obstacle, but they make it back to Grantaire’s apartment and it’s only actually been half an hour. For all that they’ve agreed on why they’re back here, now, there’s a moment where they pause outside the door. “This was - it was good. I had fun,” Enjolras says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me too.” Grantaire’s hands are in his pockets. “Thanks for taking me out.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d like to do it again sometime.” Enjolras takes half a step closer to Grantaire. They’re still in the fucking hallway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that would be great.” Grantaire smiles slightly. He’s glad he hasn't frightened Enjolras off with all of his rambling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, for..” Enjolras mutters under his breath, and he leans in, and kisses Grantaire. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire’s hands flutter for a moment, and land on Enjolras’ waist. Enjolras has a hand on Grantaire’s cheek, and he uses it to draw Grantaire in closer. The kiss deepens, and Grantaire fumbles for the doorknob. The door opens behind him, and they both stumble inside. The door slams shut behind them. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
  <span>“Hands off,” Enjolras bats Grantaire’s hands away with a grin. “I’ve only just got dressed, we’ll be late if you don’t stop.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Let them wait for us,” Grantaire waved him off. “You look too good in that, what do you expect from me?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Shush, you.” Enjolras straightens his tie. He’s dressed in a red velvet suit, hair in perfect curls. Grantaire is still in an undershirt and boxers, of course. “And get dressed!” Enjolras flicks a pressed shirt at him. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire grumbles, but he stops bothering Enjolras and does up the shirt, pulling his own jacket on to complete the look, at least from the top up. His tie remains stubbornly undone. By the time he’s dressed, he’s about as formal as anyone expects an eccentric artist to be. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Enjolras is looking at him like he’d like to undress Grantaire with his teeth, and Grantaire still can’t believe, even after they’ve been together for two years, that Enjolras looks at him like this. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>There’s a high-pitched squeak from the doorway, followed by a patient meow. Robi is accompanied by the two kittens they adopted together last month, Spoon and Patria. It’s obvious which of them named each kitten, and each of them mocks the other for their choice endlessly. Grantaire is pretty sure this is what heaven looks like. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Come on, it’s time to go.” Enjolras hasn’t even touched a cat, and there’s already cat hair on his suit. It’s hopeless to try to prevent it. The pair of them leave the little house they’re leasing together, and into the limo - an actual limo! - which is here to take them to their destination. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>They aren’t late, of course. Enjolras is nothing if not punctual, and he has gotten very used to getting Grantaire places on time. They arrive at the red carpet to a wave of camera flashes and shouts. They are far from the most important people here, of course. The reporters care more about the actors, and the bigger directors, but Grantaire and Enjolras field their fair share of questions. It’s not Enjolras’ first time at the Emmys, but it is Grantaire’s, and Grantaire is sure they can smell fresh meat. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Yes, we’re very proud of the entire cast and crew at Dragon Tales,” Enjolras tells one of them. “It’s really a team effort.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“My inspirations? I mean, I loved the Neverending Story as a kid, and the luck dragon in particular,” Grantaire tells another. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Our relationship isn’t anyone’s business, but we’re both very happy, thank you,” they answer together. They allow a few more photos to be taken, and then head inside to find their seats. Jehan is there, as is Feuilly, and some of the voice actors. They chat for a while, and drink their champagne, and then the whole thing begins. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>It’s stressful, in a way. Grantaire thinks the media run was worse, though, and the red carpet. He doesn’t expect to win anything - this isn’t their first nomination, after all, and there’s lots of good stuff to give them competition. He lets himself enjoy it, as much as he can, without putting any pressure on himself. They lose a nomination for music to a new children’s show, and Grantaire thinks the new show deserves it, after the brief clip he got to hear, anyway. They go through a few more categories in the kid’s section, and then they get to writing. Jehan is nominated - Jehan took over as the primary writer for the third season, and Grantaire is labelled as an assistant producer, or something, which really means he gets to make some decisions, he’s consulted a lot, but mostly he gets to focus on making concept art. He trusts his friends to see his vision through, now, and it gives him time to focus on his own books, and his art, and his new art classes he teaches for kids. He’s tense as they build up to it, introducing the nominees, and he cheers louder than anyone when Jehan wins. It’s their first Emmy win, and he couldn’t be prouder. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The real test, though, is that big, elusive title. They’ve been nominated for Outstanding Animated Children’s Program, the biggest award they’re even eligible for, and if they win, it’ll be huge. They’ve been nominated every year since they started airing, and have yet to bring the title home. Grantaire is mostly invested because he’s been helping Enjolras prepare an acceptance speech every year, just in case, and he really wants to see Enjolras get to give it. Of course, it doesn’t hurt that Enjolras made him a promise. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Come to the Emmys,” Enjolras had pleaded. In a moment of genius, he’d added, “I’ll blow you in the greenroom if we win.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Of course, Grantaire is easily persuaded when it comes to Enjolras. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“A lot of promising contenders this year,” the host is saying on stage. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Absolutely. But this year’s winner is.. Dragon Tales!” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire stares at Enjolras, who is staring back, open-mouthed. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Get your butt up there,” Grantaire pushes him with a wide grin. “C’mon, Emmy-award winning producer.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Enjolras shakes himself, nods, and manages to get up to the stage. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Thank you. This means a lot, not just to myself, but to the whole Dragon Tales team. I’d like to thank everyone involved, from the director to the animators to the set assistants. None of it would be possible without every single person who’s dedicated their time and passion to this.” Enjolras swallows. “I’d like to thank Mr. Jean Valjean, and PBS studios, for letting us do something so risky, and so unique. And most of all, I’d like to thank Grantaire, who created this incredible universe that we get to play in as creators. He’s an inspiration to me daily, and his imagination truly knows no bounds. He’s been the heart and soul of this production from day one, and I’m so proud to know him, to work with him, and to love him. Thank you.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire is crying, because this is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> the speech he helped prepare, but it was beautiful and Enjolras is impossible, and he knows the cameras are on them when Enjolras returns to his seat, but he doesn’t care, he kisses Enjolras like they’re the only people in the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  
  <span>There is a library in New York City. It’s not a big library, or a famous one. It’s just a little library in a poorer part of town, but every Sunday people descend on it at precisely 1pm. There is a man who reads books about dragons, and gives children doodles on sticky notes, and gives them tips on writing and drawing and even on just getting by. He doesn’t sit on the floor anymore, because his knees weren’t good for that ten years ago, and they certainly aren’t any better now. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>There is usually another man with him. He wears sweaters, instead of suits, and he always comes bearing coffee - one black, one very sweet. Grantaire will lean up to kiss him, and the children will make retching noises, and the parents will think nothing of any of it, and Grantaire will continue to read, while Enjolras watches. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Grantaire hands a little dragon on a sticky note to a little girl. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Those doodles are worth a lot of money, you know,” Enjolras points out fondly, as if they haven’t had this conversation a hundred times. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You know that’s not why I do it,” Grantaire shrugs, and he starts the next one. “They make the kids happy. They have no idea they could sell my art on ebay for a stupid amount of money.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I know.” Enjolras steals another kiss. “Cosette wants to know if we’re coming over for dinner when we’re done here.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Of course we’re coming,” Grantaire says, as if this is a stupid question. “Tell her I’ll bring back her copy of Emma, too, and that I hope she doesn’t mind my annotations.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“She never minds your annotations. You’re both heathens, writing in books.” Enjolras shakes his head fondly. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Where better to write down your thoughts?” Grantaire counters. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>There’s a library in New York City. It’s not big, or famous, but ask anyone from that neighbourhood and they’ll tell you confidently that it’s the best library in the city, bar none. Grantaire is inclined to agree. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is it, folks! Thanks for coming on this ride with me, and I hope you enjoyed it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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